A chill went down Owen's spine. He looked down at the injury, wondering if it was real or not. And then there it was, the excruciating pain came. His teeth gritted, and he curled his fingers up in agony.

He clutched his wounded arm, and looked at the woman in bewilderment. The woman was clutching her own arm, and sported a pained expression. Her breaths were heavy, and there were tears in her eyes.

Owen figured out that this was probably her insignia's ability. But how could she so easily do this to herself?

As she suffered, Owen heard the pounding of glass coming from all around him. The inmates in the viewing areas were beating on the glass in joy. Their hollering could be heard from every corner. They relished in watching him be injured.

Of course. They wanted nothing more than to see him fail, after all he was the enemy of every inmate present.

Not wanting to give them the satisfaction, Owen gathered himself up, and refocused. He needed to knock out this woman, and quick, before she could do further damage.

He lunged forward towards the woman, in an attempt to seize her. But as he did, the spirit pulled back its leg, and with immense force, kicked the woman's knee. The snap was gruesome, as the leg bent inwards and was contorted into an unnatural angle.

Owen was sent tumbling down, as he heard the same bone crushing sound happen below him. Agonized by pain, Owen looked over his shoulder and grimaced. Bone had pierced through muscle and flesh, rendering his left leg useless.

Somehow his opponent was willing to pay any cost to see him fail, and while her level of conviction was worthy of respect, Owen would not succumb so easily.

He slammed his fists against the ground and dragged himself forward, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. He looked up at his opponent who was on the ground. She was faced down and limp, with her spirit looming over her. It had its hands raised high in the air.

Owen cursed, it was preparing to break her spine. He lifted his left hand towards the woman, and pulled back his arm, using his essence ability to drag the woman's body closer to him and away from the spirit.

The quick movements caused the spirit to miss its attack, and it pounded its fists onto the floor. The spirit shot a glare in Owen's direction and screeched.

The woman's body dragged along the floor, and entered Owen's reach. Her wary eyes looked up at his, and Owen clenched his fist. Then, a sudden thought occurred to him. In his haste to end this, he hadn't considered that knocking her out could also cause him to be knocked out too.

The spirit stood up straight, its arms down to its side, and its stance fixed firmly. It began to become translucent, becoming transparent. It then sank into the ground, submerging itself and disappearing from sight. It was an ability all spirit essence users possessed, as their spirits could move freely through solid surfaces.

In other words, it was hiding. Then, its inevitable return would be coupled with a surprise attack. The clock was ticking, so with no time to hesitate, Owen used his essence ability to shove his protruding bones back into his body. His fingers trembled, and sweat dribbled down his chin. Agony overwhelmed him, as the limbs snapped back into place. But still, he bore through and fought against the torment. He pushed the bone back under the skin, hoping that the damage wasn't too severe.

With his uninjured right leg and his left arm, Owen pushed himself up into a standing position. Then, he placed his left leg gently on the ground and winced at the pain. He didn't really know anything about anatomy so he couldn't really tell if he put the bones in the wrong place or not, but it looked like everything was where it was supposed to be.

He surged essence throughout his body which alleviated most of the pain and made moving a lot more manageable. And now, here he was, waiting. As he stood there with his toes flexed, Owen prepared for the coming attack.

A hand emerged from the surface the woman was lying on and reached for her neck. Owen made a mad dash for her and grabbed hold of the woman's jumpsuit. At that exact moment, the spirit lashed out towards her back and clawed at it with its sharp claws. Owen tightened his grip and pulled the woman's body to him, carrying her like a husband would carry his wife on their wedding night.

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He hopped backwards in order to put some distance between him and the spirit. He felt his back dampen with blood.

The spirit sank back into the ground, and disappeared once again. Owen was put back on edge and moved again. He needed to put as much distance between the spirit and the woman as possible. In his arms, the woman was staring up at him with weary, hesitant, and exhausted eyes.

With the pain in his leg mounting up, the spirit took another ambush attempt. It rose from the ground and thrust out both its arms, grasping for them. Owen ducked under, pistol squatting on his good leg.

With no other viable option, he yelled out and used kinetic energy to blast the spirit across the arena. It was sent hurtling up into the air, where it slowly floated back to the ground. Owen watched it as it fell, while he caught his breath.

He cursed his own impulsiveness. Why did he feel the need to waste away most of his essence in that last fight against Pike? Right now, he was down to a fourth of his total reserves. If only he had followed through with what he had earlier and taken this gauntlet seriously. He'd then have a lot more options to play around with.

His thoughts were interrupted by the steps of the spirit getting closer. It drew closer and closer, making its way to him. Owen grumbled under his breath, annoyed at the task before him. He needed to somehow make the woman in his arms forfeit the match, without transferring any damage that falls onto her onto himself.

He was about to make a move, when the raspy voice of the woman in his arms cracked, "I'm sorry..."

Her eyes were glossy, and her face was pale and dirty. Looking down at her, Owen could tell just how much pain the woman was enduring.

"I've been here for twenty years... I need to leave here." Tears ran down her face, "I need to get to the next floor, so I can leave. My son... My son needs me."

Hearing her words, Owen softened up. All of a sudden he became painfully aware of the small woman's existence.

The woman looked up at Owen's face. "I'm sorry that I hurt you."

Owen's mind became muddled. He stared down at the woman for a long moment. The spirit meanwhile was still advancing on them. It was only a few feet away, and could strike at any moment.

As it got ready to strike again, Owen's eyes hardened and he clenched his jaw. A deep-rooted determination bloomed inside him. He gritted his teeth, and grit them hard. He knew what he had to do.

"I'll promise you this. I will free you."

Owen's words flowed over the woman like a crashing wave, and filled her heart with hope. Fresh tears ran down her face, and she tightened her grips onto the fabric of Owen's shirt.

"Please...please. Thank you...thank you."

The spirit had just stopped short of reaching them. It lowered its arm, and began dissipating, until it was no longer in sight.

The woman closed her eyes. "I want to forfeit this match."

Owen sighed a breath of relief. Two guards had rushed in from the entrance carrying a stretcher. They arrived next to Owen and laid the stretcher down on the ground.

Without a word, Owen laid the old woman down onto the stretcher. He backed away, giving the guards space, and watched them carry the woman out of the arena.

He understood it now. When he first announced that he wanted to do the gauntlet, he didn't understand why the other inmates were not fighting for their freedom. Why were they so complacent in letting Arden have its way with them? Looking back, he had thought he was superior to them all. At least he was unwilling to give in and concede to a fate like that, but now he realized that he had been thinking too small. They don't see any other path to freedom.

The buzzer rung out, signalling the introduction of his next opponent.

Owen banged his fists together and reverted his gaze to the entrance. After he was through with this gauntlet, he was going to hand the inmates another path towards freedom. They don't see it now, but there are other options, and he'll show them.

But first, he had to get through two hundred and seventy-six more battles.

***

The ninety-second opponent that came out of the tunnel, was an average looking middle-aged man. He had a receding hairline, a slightly long nose and his skin was pinkish. His small beady eyes, were like little marbles sitting upon his flabby cheeks.

Owen stood, and waited as the man strolled in. They made eye contact for a brief second before the man raised his hand.

Owen instantly hopped backwards and lowered his stance. He got ready for an incoming assault, but nothing happened. Owen grimaced as nothing occurred. For a few seconds he just waited in his ready position, silently wondering what this guys game was.

Then, the silence was broken. His opponent raised up his hand in the air. "I forfeit."

Just like that.

Out of everything he could've done, Owen wasn't expecting him to just outright forfeit like that. The man began walking towards the exit, and disappeared back into the tunnel. He came and left like the wind, the whole scene taking a mere few seconds.

Owen, who was now out of his readied stance, stood with a puzzled expression on his face. Only confusion and questions swirled around in his brain. Just what did he do?

The buzzer sounded once more, indicating that the following individual would soon be coming in. Owen moved back to the centre of the arena and readied himself, he planned on ignoring that previous opponent and moving on.

A dribble of something wet rolled down the side of Owen's cheek. He wiped it, and brought his hand close to his face. There was a bloody smear on his palm.

He narrowed his eyes. The cut he received from the boy Lucas, was bleeding. But that was odd, because he was sure it had clotted and scabbed over.

He pressed his finger against the small opening and attempted to staunch the blood flow. But it kept bleeding, causing his fingers to become coated red. After a few seconds, his right arm was hurting more than usual, and blood was seeping out of his sleeve and ran down his arm.

And it wasn't a normal amount of bleeding either, no, it was more like it was gushing out of him. The pain in his leg was also beginning to feel intense again. Blood came out of there as well, forming a growing pool of red underneath him.

He started to worry. What the hell was going on? What did that guy do earlier?

The doors to the entrance opened again and the ninety-third opponent walked out. He was another man, with shaggy brown hair that fell just below his ears. He was tall and lanky, and he strutted into the arena with self-confidence. A creepy smile adorned his wide lips, while his beady dark green eyes sparkled with delight.

Owen took a step back and started to feel woozy. His head felt like it was spinning, as blood continued to leak out of his wounds.

The skinny man held out a hand to his side. A moment later, a white light flashed, and a jagged blade materialized from his palm. The man gleefully laughed and charged towards Owen.

Owen grimaced and tried to move, but his leg betrayed him. The man reached him, and in one downward swing sliced the blade down Owen's chest. Skin split apart and blood spurted out.

A grin spread across the lanky man's face as he joyfully watched the blood coat his blade.

"I really can't wait to cut you up, man."

Owen frowned. He was bleeding badly, his head was spinning, and his injuries felt increasingly worse. And now a weirdo with a sword had shown up. This day was getting better and better.