August's heart hammered in his chest as the mutated creature bore down on him, its monstrous form growing larger with each passing second. The arena had become a twisted battlefield, the stakes far higher than any fight he had ever imagined. The system flashed warnings in his peripheral vision, urging him to remain focused and to use his enhanced agility to dodge the creature’s crushing blows.
But his mind raced faster than his body could move. The pain in his shoulder from the gunshot wound was sharp, a constant reminder that he was not invincible. His body moved with unnatural speed, ducking and weaving as the creature lunged, its claws scraping the arena floor with a deafening screech.
The gunshot from Rivas’s soldiers had shattered any semblance of trust August might have had in the commander. The betrayal was sudden and brutal, and now he was left to fend for himself—no allies, no time to waste. If he didn’t act fast, he’d be the next victim of the coliseum’s twisted games.
His feet slid across the cracked concrete, the enhanced agility skill guiding his every movement. His body twisted in ways that felt almost unnatural, but it was enough to keep him alive. The mutated zombie’s claws raked the air where he had been only moments before, and he sprang forward with an explosive burst of speed, dodging the next strike by a hair's breadth.
The creature’s roar reverberated through the arena as it spun to face him again. It was relentless, its movements fueled by raw, animalistic hunger. August could feel the sweat pouring down his face, his pulse quickening with each breath. He couldn’t keep this up forever.
He needed a plan.
The system’s voice echoed in his mind, a soft but persistent reminder of the options available to him.
“Weak point detected: Underbelly. Target vulnerable areas to increase damage.”
With a surge of clarity, August’s gaze snapped to the creature’s underbelly. It was exposed, its tough, armor-like plating unable to shield the soft flesh beneath. His muscles coiled, his body reacting before he even consciously realized it. His speed had doubled, and his reflexes had sharpened. The world around him slowed, and he found himself moving with the precision of a seasoned fighter.
He feinted to the left, dodging another swiping claw, and then leaped toward the creature’s exposed underbelly. His knife, now infused with the system’s power, gleamed in the light as it slashed through the creature’s soft flesh with surgical precision. The zombie screeched in agony, its spiked body writhing as it tried to shake him off. But August was already moving again, landing lightly on his feet, ready for the next strike.
The mutated zombie staggered, its movements growing sluggish as the deep gash in its underbelly leaked foul, black ichor. But it wasn’t finished yet. It howled in fury, its fury escalating as it lashed out with renewed violence. August was quick to evade, but the creature’s desperation was palpable. It wasn’t just fighting for survival—it was fighting for dominance, for control of this world that had been taken from it.
The arena seemed to close in around him, the walls pressing in as the beast’s roar rattled his bones. But then, just as it looked like the creature would land the final blow, a sharp, commanding voice rang out from the stands.
“Enough!”
The voice was so authoritative that even the mutated zombie seemed to hesitate, its claw hovering inches from August’s face. The crowd had fallen silent, every eye fixed on the figure who had spoken. From the shadows emerged Commander Rivas, his face impassive as he surveyed the scene. Behind him, a group of soldiers stood at attention, weapons drawn, their eyes scanning the arena warily.
Rivas’s gaze flicked briefly to the mutated zombie, and then back to August. His expression was unreadable.
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
“You’ve proven your worth,” he said, his voice a mixture of frustration and begrudging respect. “But don’t think for a second that you’ve earned your freedom here.”
August’s breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to steady his pulse, his mind racing to make sense of what was happening. The system was already calculating his next move, but he knew that whatever Rivas had planned would not be in his favor.
“What do you want from me now?” August asked, his voice hoarse but defiant.
Rivas’s lips twisted into a cold smile. “I’ve been watching you, August. You’ve got potential. But I’m afraid you’ll never make it out of this arena alive unless you start playing by my rules.”
August clenched his fists. He could feel the weight of the gunshot wound in his shoulder, and his strength was fading fast. But he couldn’t back down now—not when the stakes had gotten so high.
“Your rules?” August spat. “You think I’ll just fall in line? After what you did?”
Rivas’s smile didn’t falter. “You don’t have a choice. No one does. But I think you’ll come around. The world has changed, August. It’s no longer about survival alone—it’s about power. The only question is, who will hold it?”
The words hung in the air, and for a moment, August didn’t know how to respond. The tension in the arena was thick, the crowd’s whispers barely audible as they waited for the next move. Rivas’s soldiers were poised, ready to act, but the commander made no further move.
For a long moment, August stood there, facing Rivas, the mutated zombie still twitching on the ground at his feet. Finally, he spoke, his voice steady despite the chaos swirling around him.
“You’re wrong,” August said, his tone colder than he felt. “This isn’t about power. It’s about surviving. And I’ll survive on my terms.”
Rivas’s eyes darkened, but his lips twitched as if he were about to speak. Before he could, the arena doors creaked open again, and a figure stepped into view—a man who had been waiting for his moment.
Ethan.
August’s eyes narrowed at the newcomer. Ethan was a charismatic man, his presence commanding attention the moment he entered the arena. He was tall, his features sharp and striking, with a confident aura that radiated from him. He was dressed in the practical clothes of a survivor, but there was something more about him—an undeniable strength that made him seem like a natural leader.
The crowd buzzed with a mixture of awe and uncertainty as Ethan strode toward the center of the arena, his eyes locked on August.
“Rivas,” Ethan said, his voice smooth and calm, but laced with authority. “You’ve had your fun. Now it’s time to let the real fight begin.”
Rivas’s gaze flicked to Ethan, his expression hardening. “What do you want, Ethan?”
“I want to talk,” Ethan replied, his tone more pointed now. “You’ve been running this circus long enough. But the real question is, how long will the survivors tolerate your games? You’re not in control anymore, Rivas.”
A flicker of irritation passed across Rivas’s face, but he didn’t speak. Instead, he turned his attention to August, a calculated glint in his eyes.
“Is that true?” Rivas asked, his voice low. “Have you heard the whispers, August? Do you really think you can fight alone against me, against the forces I control?”
August felt a pang of uncertainty, but he pushed it aside. Rivas wasn’t the only one with power here.
Ethan’s eyes never left Rivas, but he addressed August directly. “Rivas’s reign is coming to an end. He doesn’t have the support he thinks he does. We’ve been building something—something stronger than this twisted arena.” He took a step closer to August. “I want you to help us. We need your system. We need someone like you.”
August’s mind raced. His options had never been so complex. The idea of fighting back, of being part of something bigger than himself—it was tempting, but there was a risk. Ethan seemed genuine, but so had Rivas, at least at first.
But the system’s voice spoke to him again, this time with a warning:
“Betrayal detected. Remain cautious.”
Ethan smiled as if reading August’s hesitation. “I know what you’re thinking. You don’t trust me. But I’m your best chance for survival.”
August hesitated, caught between the need to survive and the fear of making the wrong choice.
Then Ethan dropped the bombshell.
“I need you to sabotage the coliseum’s defenses,” he said, his voice low. “We can’t fight back until the walls come down. Will you help us?”
August felt his blood run cold as the weight of Ethan’s request settled on him. Sabotage the defenses? The entire coliseum? He wasn’t sure if this was the right move, but it was clear that his next choice could change everything.