[The Arena of Draka – The Exit Corridor]
The Sura Guard returned from the arena with measured, quiet steps, his black blade dripping with blood that had barely begun to dry. He passed me in the narrow corridor, and I felt that frigid aura emanating from him—the aura of someone who had just extinguished the dreams of a simple man who wanted nothing more than a dress for his daughter. I did not look at him, nor did I move a muscle, but the fury within my body was boiling like lava beneath a crust of ice.
The announcer's voice rang out once more, but this time his tone was laced with a mockery. "My dear people! After that royal display from our guards, it is time for some... side entertainment!"
The announcer let out a muffled chuckle, trying to suppress it behind the magical microphone, before continuing: "In the first corner... the invincible titan, the crusher of mountains... GROOM!"
My opponent entered. He was a massive beast, a hybrid between human and ghoul, standing three meters tall and carrying an iron hammer that looked like a piece of the city wall. Groom let out a roar that shook the stands, and the crowd began to cheer for him fervently.
"And against him..." the announcer continued in a low, mockery-filled voice: "A new fighter who decided to name himself with a mysterious title... welcome THE WRAITH!"
The stands erupted in laughter. "The Wraith? Is this a joke?" someone shouted. "Where is he? We see nothing but a black scarf!" The nobles laughed from their balconies, and even the soldiers at the entrances could not contain themselves. To them, I was merely a joke that would be crushed under Groom's foot in seconds.
[The Battlefield – The Confrontation]
I took my first steps onto the sands stained with Kyle's blood. I did not use the "Original Sin Eyes." I didn't need them. I wanted to feel every strike, every scream, and every drop of blood with my bare hands and my new blade.
The referee stood in the middle and stated the rules coldly: "The rule here is simple: there is no victory... as long as your opponent is still breathing. Begin!"
Groom lunged at me like a raging mountain, raising his massive hammer. "I'll turn you into paste, you midget!" he roared as he swung the hammer down.
I didn't move until the very last second. My body slipped like smoke beside the hammer, which slammed into the ground, creating a deep crater. In a fraction of a second, I drew my heavy blade, and instead of stabbing, I used the pommel of the sword to shatter the beast's jaw with a single blow.
CRACK!
The sound of shattering bone echoed through the silent arena. Groom recoiled, clutching his mangled jaw, his eyes filled with disbelief. I gave him no room to breathe. I lunged at him, not like a human, but like a hurricane of steel.
I began by severing the tendons in his legs with precise, rapid movements. The giant fell to his knees, and that was when the true massacre began. I wasn't killing him quickly; I was dismantling him. I kicked his chest with a force that caused his iron breastplate to cave inward, then I began plunging my blade into his shoulders and arms.
"AAAAAAGH!" Groom screamed, a cry saturated with pain. He was no longer that fierce beast; he had become a mass of quivering meat. "Please... mercy! Please stop!" He began to sob like a child, his tears mixing with his filthy blue blood on the sand.
I didn't hear him. I didn't see Groom before me; I saw Kyle's face as he drew his final breath. I saw the faces of the nobles as they laughed.
I grabbed his massive head and squeezed it with my left hand until I felt his skull begin to yield. "Mercy?" I whispered in a voice only he could hear, a voice coming from the depths of hell. "In this arena... there is only sin."
I raised my blade high, and with one decisive motion, I drove it into the center of his chest, piercing the heart and exiting through his back to sink into the arena sands.
Groom's body gave one final twitch, then fell completely still.
[The End – The Majesty of Silence]
A terrifying silence fell over the arena. The laughter that had filled the place minutes ago vanished entirely, replaced by a shock steeped in dread. The referee, who had been stifling his laughter moments before, stood with trembling hands as he held the magical microphone.
"The... the winner..." The referee swallowed hard, then shouted in a wavering voice: "The winner is... THE WRAITH!"
The crowd didn't cheer at first. They remained staring at me as I pulled my blade from the giant's corpse with total coldness. I wiped the blade with my black scarf and walked toward the corridor without glancing at the King or his sons on the balcony.
A few hesitant shouts began to emerge, then transformed into a hysterical clamor. "Who is this?" "How did he crush Groom so easily?" "He was faster than lightning!"
[The Waiting Room – The Next Corpse]
I returned to the dark corridor. The room was still charged with the scent of death. I headed to my seat and sat down with the same coldness I had entered with. I noticed the Sura Guard standing in the corner; he didn't move, but he was watching me with deep, analytical eyes, as if he had just realized that "The Wraith" was not just a silly alias, but a harbinger of doom.
I gave him no attention. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the cold stone wall. I didn't feel victory, nor did I feel relief.
All I felt was weight—the weight of the blade in my hand, and the weight of the blood beginning to dry on my clothes.
I opened my eyes slightly, looking toward the door from which the next opponent would emerge, and whispered a single word to myself that turned doubt into certainty:
"Next..."
To me, these weren't fighters, and they weren't humans. They were merely deferred corpses waiting for their turn to water the sands of Draka.