I walked to the entrance of the Pit and was met with the faces of Steeltown—hard men and women who endured the worst the Dellends had thrown at them. They crowded the street, blocking both sides. The crowd parted into a rough circle, where a bull paced its edges. Tom had stripped to his waist, revealing a lean, well-muscled physique.

The rest of my party followed on my heels, with Arwen trailing behind.

"You're popular,” Castille said.

The collection of frowns and scowls in the crowd said otherwise.

I pulled off my jacket and unbuttoned my shirt. If they wanted a show, that’s what they would get.

"Isla, can you hold this?"

"O-Ok."

I handed her clothes. She grabbed them, juggling her staff in the crook of her elbow. After a moment of hesitation, I unbuckled my sword belt and added it to the pile.

“Don’t hurt each other too bad,” Arwen said.

“No promises.”

I walked down the steps into the jeering crowd.

A woman with locks of straw-like hair and a missing front tooth spit in my face.

"Get out of Steeltown!"

The crowd erupted around me.

"Yeah! Get out! Get out, elf! Get out!”

I smiled through clenched teeth, wiping the glob of spit off my cheek with the palm of my hand.

After everything I'd done for these people.

Well… Everything I'd tried to do it.

It didn't matter.

Once Nostrand Del died, I could leave this spirit-cursed land for good.

I took a deep breath. My chest was tight along with everything else—a side effect of the renaming.

Ignore it. Ignore everything.

I let my mind sink into that place that was so far away.

The crowd disappeared. Their taunts became distant. I was no longer in the Dellends.

Yes, his was just another sparring session in the Red Room, and, for the first time, Sin was not my opponent.

I laughed, letting the raw giggle escape my throat.

"What’re laughing about?" Tom asked.

He walked to the centre of the ring to tower over me.

I tilted my head up, smiling at the imposing man.

"I'm happy."

Tom frowned.

"Why?"

"I'm in a fight I can win.”

Tom returned my smile.

"You're a funny fella.”

"Thanks. I try.”

He raised his fists, each one almost as big as my head.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Oh, are we starting?

I sunk into my stance, knees bent, arms loose and close to my torso. Shouts from the crowd were muted further by my pounding heart. My eyes unfocused to see everything and nothing.

It was just a sparring session.

Just another-

WHOOSH!

I bobbed to the right. The wind of Tom's fist blew past my head. I ducked as that fist stopped and swung left.

An opening.

I darted in, punching his solar plexus with a straight left.

THWACK!

What was he made of?! Stone?!

My hand bounced off the dense muscles of his stomach.

Two thick hands grabbed the back of my neck. I threw my arms down, blocking his knee before it slammed into my stomach. I wrapped my arms around his raised thigh, stepping in and sweeping out his other leg.

We toppled to the ground.

I slipped past his legs, scrambling on all fours to get a dominant position over my fallen opponent.

The chest. Control his chest!

Tom's stiff arm kept me away. A punch with his other hand landed a glancing blow that turned my vision white.

He got to his feet as I blinked away stars.

"Nice trick! Where'd you learn it?"

"My mother."

"She must be sum woman."

I spit out a glob of blood.

"She hits harder than you."

Tom pulled back his foot to kick me in my ribs.

I rolled away as he followed through, spinning into a crouch on all fours.

My eyes widened as the bottom of his foot flew to my face.

I fell into a kneeling bow and winced as his heel scrapped skin off my back. I sprang up, trapping his ankle between my head and shoulder.

Tom hopped on one foot for a few awkward moments and then jumped forward.

His second foot slammed into my chest, sending me stumbling into the angry crowd.

The miners caught me and pushed me forward into Tom as he got back to his feet.

Too slow!

He was still crouched when my knee cracked into his chin.

His head snapped to the side as I slid past him.

A large hand wrapped around my ankle and yanked me to the ground.

This was the worst place to be.

I kicked at his fingers.

Once. Twice. A third time!

The grip loosened, and I scampered to my feet.

Tom stood up a moment later, wiping his bloody mouth on the back of his hand, one finger bent the wrong way.

He flashed me a pink smile.

"Not bad!"

I frowned.

Not bad?!

I was better than him. More skilled. More technical. But unlike Sin, he didn't mind getting hurt. This wasn't a battle of skill; this was a war of attrition—the kind of fight I had not trained for.

What would Sin do?

She wouldn't be here, fighting a larger enemy head-on. She would have sneaked out of the Pit’s back door and visited Tom later that night.

A weapon. I'm a weapon.

The more time I spent with Isla, Castille and Dugan, the harder it was to convince myself of this truth.

The more I didn't want it to be true.

I sighed.

I’m weak, and look where it brought me, rolling around in the dirt in front of a crowd of people who hated me.

I focused on that crowd for the first time since the fight began. Their weathered faces huddled around us, peeking over and in between the first ring of onlookers.

In their wide eyes, I saw... hope.

This fight was more than a passing moment of entertainment. It was a release of all their fears and frustrations. It was a play where they became Tiny Tom Harwick, lashing at everything wrong with the world, symbolized by me.

These people were on the brink of rioting, destroying the town they sacrificed their lives to create.

I could let Tom win.

I could relieve the tension that had been building for days.

I could be selfless.

Like Castille...

Like Arwen……..

Fuck that!

I darted forward with blinding speed, catching Tom off guard. I jabbed at his face. The large man covered it with his forearms. I pulled back my feint and, with my trailing leg, swung my foot into his groin.

THWACK!

Tom screamed as I kicked his testicles into his stomach. I switched stances and sent a low kick to buckle the knee of his lead leg.

He faltered, lowering himself to my height. I grabbed the tufts of his long, brown hair and smashed my knee into his nose. He fell on his back in a cloud of dust.

Thank you, Sin…

I pinned him down with my knee on his chest, raining down fist after fist on his face.

You made me…

THWACK!

Utility…

THWACK!

Misdirection…

THWACK!

Ruthlessness…

I held my bloodied fist high. My face split into a feral grin. My eyes soaked in the horrified faces of the crowd.

That's right. This isn’t your story… It’s mine.

Arwen was watching me from the crowd, and, in that brief moment, our eyes locked.

Ruthlessness… Why was it always a struggle? What’s holding me back? What’s stopping me from being who I was meant to be?

Sin…

Why do you feel out of reach?

Why did you leave me alone?

I needed someone. I needed you!

No…

I stifled it. That feeling? That emotion?

Whatever it was, I pushed it down into the depths of myself—into the parts of me it was best to ignore.

I sighed, standing up to stare down at the bloody pulp of Tom’s face.

The crowd was deathly quiet. Between their stunned, slack-jawed faces, Arwen breathed a sigh of relief.

I turned to the crowd and shrugged.

"I guess… I guess I won!"

"GET HIM!"

The circle of bodies around us collapsed. The miners rushed toward me, onlookers becoming combatants.

Out of the corner of my eye, Castille and Dugan ran forward to pull me out of the crowd.

They were too far and too late. So be it.

I fell into my stance.

Bring it on...

Who wants to die first?