The minutes passed slowly, heavily, almost unbearable.
It wasn't normal time. It was the kind of time that drags, that digs under the skin and makes every breath weigh twice as much.
A time that doesn't advance, but threatens. Behind the two enormous doors, the two warriors destined to fight waited in silence, separated only by walls that would soon cease to exist as a boundary between life and defeat.
Darkness enveloped the place like an oppressive, thick, almost conscious mantle.
It was barely broken by the faint light filtering through the cracks in the doors, thin lines that looked like luminous scars on the ancient stone.
The air was laden with tension, so dense it was hard to inhale normally, as if even the walls knew something irreversible was about to happen.
On the left side, Agnitus remained motionless.
Arms crossed over his chest, head slightly tilted forward, like a patient beast that doesn't need to move to intimidate.
His breathing was deep, slow, perfectly controlled.
Each exhalation seemed to push the air outward, marking his territory. His body emanated a suffocating pressure, a primitive sensation that didn't come from magic or visible aura, but from something older: pure contained violence.
It was Wrath in its purest state.
On the other side, Kairou clenched his teeth.
His hands trembled slightly.
Not entirely from fear—but from the brutal mix of adrenaline, nerves, and anticipation.
He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, pounding hard, as if it wanted to escape his chest.
He knew where he was. He knew who he was going to fight. Every story, every rumor, every warning crossed his mind like a hammer.
And yet, he didn't retreat.
He didn't take a step back. He didn't look for excuses. He didn't ask for mercy.
The doors began to open slowly.
The sound of stone sliding echoed throughout the arena like an ancient lament.
A deep, grave creak that announced the start of the spectacle.
Sunlight filtered in violently, cutting through the darkness like a sharpened blade, forcing both to squint.
The murmur of the crowd began to seep inside, first as a distant whisper, then growing, feeding on the anticipation, increasing with every centimeter the doors opened.
Shouts. Bets. Mockery. Hungry expectation.
Finally, both took the first step.
They emerged from the shadows into the illuminated arena, walking toward each other.
Each step took them away from the shelter of darkness and exposed them to the judgment of thousands of gazes.
The sand burned under the sun, and the air vibrated with the energy of the coliseum. They stopped when they were only a few meters apart.
The contrast between them was evident.
Agnitus clenched his right arm tightly, making the muscles crack under his skin.
The veins stood out like taut cables, and the leather of his gauntlets creaked slightly.
His gaze swept over his opponent from head to toe, without haste, evaluating him like prey that had already been sentenced.
—Is that all? —he thought—. A simple person?
Kairou, though a demon, barely showed distinctive features.
A pair of horns protruded from his dark hair, nothing more. There was no magical aura rippling around him.
No visible weapons. No sword, no spear, no shield. Nothing to indicate he could survive more than a few seconds against a Deadly Sin.
Agnitus gave a faint smile.
Not a joyful one. It was a brief grimace, laden with disdain.
Meanwhile, Agnitus always wore his gauntlets: heavy, reinforced, marked by countless battles. Every dent told a story. Every scratch was a memory of broken bones and fallen enemies.
There was no warning.
No countdown.
With a single explosive step, Agnitus launched a direct punch, driven with all his strength, straight to Kairou's stomach.
The impact was brutal.
The sound of the collision echoed like dry thunder.
Kairou barely had time to cross his arms to block. The blow pierced his guard like a wild charge, and his body was hurled several meters backward.
His feet lifted off the ground, and for an instant he hung in the air before tumbling violently across the sand.
The crowd shouted.
Some in excitement. Others in mockery. Others already celebrated the end.
Kairou stopped with one knee on the ground. His breathing was irregular, heavy.
His arms burned as if they had been plunged into fire. The skin was red, numb from the impact. The pain was intense, searing… but not unbearable.
Not yet.
Agnitus advanced with firm, slow, sure steps.
He didn't run. He wasn't in a hurry.
Each footfall seemed to resonate more than the last, setting the rhythm of an announced execution. The sand sank slightly under his weight, and his shadow stretched in front of him like a claw.
Kairou stood up with difficulty, breathing heavily.
He shook his arms, trying to restore sensation. He did small jumps in place, keeping his body moving, covering his face with an improvised guard.
His eyes never left Agnitus, alert, watchful, as if he were about to attack at any moment.
Agnitus frowned.
He saw something in his stance.
Something that didn't fit.
Determination.
Not the false bravery of the ignorant. Not suicidal pride. It was worked determination, polished by blows, forged in daily effort.
And that irritated him.
With surprising speed, Agnitus advanced and threw a direct punch to the face. The fist cut through the air violently, leaving a threatening whistle behind.
But Kairou reacted.
He moved his head at the last second, dodging the attack by centimeters.
He felt the wind from the blow brush his cheek, tearing out a lock of hair. The missed impact raised sand beside him.
Without losing rhythm, Kairou responded.
Taking advantage of the motion, he twisted his torso and threw a direct punch to Agnitus's abdomen. It wasn't a desperate blow. It was precise, calculated, aimed at a specific point.
The impact was solid.
But Agnitus stopped it immediately with his other arm, blocking it easily, as if he had anticipated the attack from the start.
Kairou didn't stop.
With a quick movement, he delivered a strong headbutt straight to Agnitus's face.
The blow surprised the Sin.
Agnitus took a step back, touching his forehead. He wasn't bleeding, but his expression showed something new: genuine surprise. Silence took over the coliseum for an uncomfortable instant.
—Interesting… —Agnitus murmured.
His eyes fixed on Kairou, this time with real attention, with that dangerous gleam that appears when the prey stops being boring.
—You're clever. And you know how to fight hand-to-hand, I see —he said in a deep voice—. But even so, you're not strong enough to beat me. Tell me something… why are you fighting, knight named Kairou?
Kairou took a deep breath.
The pain was still there. The fatigue too. But he didn't lower his gaze.
—I… I'm just fighting to prove that I can be a knight as strong as the others. To prove that I can serve on the battlefield.
Agnitus narrowed his eyes.
—Just for that? For nothing more you threw yourself today to fight one of the Seven Deadly Sins?
Kairou clenched his fists. His knuckles cracked.
—That's right. Even if you see me as a damned useless… even if they see me as someone weak… I'm not. I'm someone who strives every day. Physically. Mentally. To improve. To fight alongside others. To serve my companions… and not be a burden.
His words resonated louder than any blow.
And then, Kairou attacked.
He lunged at Agnitus with a series of precise, quick blows aimed at vulnerable points. Each movement carried hours of solitary training, falls, failures, sleepless dawns. There was no perfect technique, but clear intention.
Agnitus responded.
His blows were faster. Heavier. More violent. Each impact was a contained explosion, a reminder of the abysmal difference between them.
Fist against fist.
Arm against arm.
Blow after blow.
The sound of flesh colliding filled the arena. Sweat began to mix with the sand under their feet. Pain accumulated in every muscle.
There were no skills. No magic. Just bodies clashing, sweat, pain, and will.
But then, Agnitus began to notice.
Kairou was learning.
He was adapting.
Every blocked attack was a lesson seared in fire. Every received blow, an immediate adjustment. His rhythm changed, his guard improved, his dodges became more precise. His eyes no longer hesitated: they analyzed.
Seconds passed.
And Agnitus, for the first time, had to increase his speed.
The spectators watched in absolute silence.
They couldn't believe what they were seeing.
Someone without talent…
someone without power…
was adapting to the fighting style of a Deadly Sin.
The battle grew increasingly even.
Even blows. Constant exchanges. Determination against contained fury.
And no one in the arena could look away.