Lucian didn't know how many days had passed. The sky outside was still covered with dark clouds.
The next thing he knew, someone was dragging him through the same filthy building. They shoved a dagger into his hand before tossing him into a cell. He hit the floor and lay there for a moment.
Inside the cell, there was one girl glaring at him, wearing the same iron collar, her hands and feet chained tight. Her hair was long, nearly down to her waist, matted and filthy, but unmistakably red. Red, like blood. Her skin was tan, and her eyes burned a deep, fierce red that didn't look away.
Her mouth was gagged with a strip of cloth.
Red hair didn't exist anymore. Not in Valeria, not anywhere in the west. It was an ancient trait, something from the old records, tied to ancient tribes that were supposed to be gone.
Then, the cell door opened, and three young men walked in. They looked like thugs who knew how to fight, wearing leather clothes and light armor. They sat down across from the two of them.
"Great, we got two crazy slaves on the team," said a guy with a sword at his side, shooting Lucian an irritated look.
Lucian glared right back.
"What? Wanna fight?" he shot back, starting to stand.
"Easy, Leo." The second one raised his hand, not to calm him, but to hold him. His fingers brushed Leo's arm softly, and Leo sat back down without another word. "They're part of the team... for now."
The third one, older than the other two, watched Lucian. "You're the kid that killed Mr. Stitch and caused trouble before, right?"
Lucian nodded.
"I'm Johan, and that is Leo and that's Claude, our leader."
"I'm Lucy," Lucian said.
Leo's jaw tightened. "Lucy," he repeated, his voice flat. "I lost two hundred pounds because of you."
"Ha?" Lucian replied, confused.
"The Mr. Stitch fight. I bet against you." He leaned forward, eyes sharp. "You were supposed to die."
"Sorry to disappoint," Lucian said.
Leo looked like he wanted to hit him. Claude put a hand on his knee without looking at him. Leo exhaled and leaned back.
Claude leaned in and spoke in a low whisper. "For now. If you want to survive the next fight, you should trust me and follow my lead."
Follow his lead. In his past life, every time someone offered help without being asked, there was always a price. Plus, a guy who wanted him dead a minute ago was now supposed to be his teammate.
Yeah. Right.
He didn't trust them.
Lucian glanced at the red-haired girl, then back at Claude. "Do you know who we're fighting?"
Claude shook his head. "No, but it's a fixed match, so it's gonna be tough."
"Fixed match?" Lucian asked.
Leo spoke up, still irritated. "It means the opponent picked us. They either want to get famous, money, or revenge."
Lucian looked over the three of them. None of them had collars like him or the girl. Claude carried a gun that looked like a revolver, and Johan wore heavy metal gauntlets on both arms. They were better equipped. Not ordinary slaves.
Claude noticed him staring. He grinned. "We're from a dark guild called Luzerna. If you survive this round, maybe we could buy you."
"Hey. Don't just buy a lowlife slave," Leo muttered.
"Come on, making a new friend won't hurt," Claude said with a grin.
Lucian pointed toward the chained girl. "Do you know her?"
Claude shrugged. "I don't know her name, but people call her the Mad Savage."
"She killed a bunch of lowlife before she got captured. She's a beast," Johan added.
The masked guards outside shouted, "You're next! Get ready!"
The door opened. Everyone stood up and followed the masked guard without hesitation, like it was just another job for them.
A guard unlocked her shackles and cut the gag away, leaving the chains hanging loose from the rings at her wrists. She didn't move. She just watched Varro's gate.
. . .
The arena was louder than last time. More torches. More people. The crowd pressed against the railings, shouting. The arena floor had big rocks scattered around, broken chunks of stone and rubble piled at odd angles.
The shirtless announcer swung down from the ropes, sparkling wand in hand.
"Welcome back, you miserable lot!" he roared. "Tonight's match is a special request!"
He spun and pointed across the arena.
"In the challenger's corner, a man who needs no introduction, but I'll give him one anyway!"
The opposite gate groaned open.
A broad man stepped through. He was tall, weathered, his face carved with old scars and sunburn. A long coat hung open over his bare chest. On his left hand he wore a black leather glove, tightly fitted. His right hand rested on a cutlass at his hip.
"Varro the SeaHunter! Former ship captain of the Stormchasers! Fifty thousand pounds on his head, and he's still breathing!"
The crowd erupted. Some cheered. Some booed. A few threw bottles.
Varro didn't flinch. He scanned their group with cold, practiced eyes. When his gaze found Claude, it stopped.
He smiled.
"There you are," he said, loud enough for them to hear.
Claude's face didn't change, but Lucian saw his hand tighten on his revolver.
"You know him?" Lucian asked.
"He knows us," Claude said, scratching his temple. "We kinda stole something from his ship."
"That's why he's here?" Lucian asked.
"Last time I heard, he was exiled by the admiral of the Stormchasers." Claude's voice was flat. "Guess he wants revenge."
Varro raised his gloved hand. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pulled the glove off.
The hand beneath wasn't flesh. It was metal. Dark iron, etched with runes that pulsed with a dull blue glow. The fingers moved like real ones, but the joints clicked faintly with each motion.
"Not only exiled," Varro said, holding up the metal hand for everyone to see. "They took my hand for what you did." His voice dropped. "With this, I'll skin every last one of you. And when I'm done, I'll build a crew worthy of the name."
Leo smirked and unsheathed his sword. "Come and try."
"Calm down," Claude said, eyes locked on the metal hand. "That's an artifact. We still don't know what it does."
Lucian stepped forward. "Why me?" he called out to Varro. "I don't even know you."
Varro looked at him like he'd asked something stupid. "You're the kid who killed Mr. Stitch and butchered guards in the pit. You think people don't talk?" He tilted his head. "I need a crew. And a captain needs a reputation."
His eyes drifted from Claude to Lucian, then past him. He pointed at the red-haired girl.
"That thing destroyed my ship before they caught her." He looked back at Claude. "And those rats stole my sea route." He spread his arms. "Two debts. One arena. Plus you. Efficient, don't you think?"
The announcer swung higher, his voice booming. "The rules are simple! Kill Varro the SeaHunter!"
The crowd screamed.
Varro waved his black iron hand through the air. Crimson threads spun outward from his fingers, weaving and twisting, coiling around each other until they hardened into shape. A cannon barrel, black and gleaming, formed above his shoulder, aimed directly at them.
"Johan," Claude said calmly.
Johan stepped to the front without hesitation. Lucian covered his ears.
The cannon fired. The sound hit like a wall, shaking the ground and blasting smoke across the arena. The shot slammed into Johan. When the dust cleared, his body was covered in grey scales, his feet dug into the sand. He hadn't moved an inch.
"Leo, Johan, give me time to analyze his attack," Claude said, adjusting his grip on the revolver.
"I'll go left, you"
A blur of red cut him off.
The red-haired girl had already charged. Her loose chains dragged behind her, scraping across the stone as she threw herself at Varro with nothing but her bare hands and her teeth.
"Kill!" she screamed. "Kill all!"
But the words weren't anything spoken in the common tongue.
It wasn't Western, the common tongue Lucian grew up speaking. It wasn't Elvian either, the northern language he'd picked up from books at the manor.
This was something older. The consonants were heavy, pushed from deep in the throat. He'd only seen it in old translation books and on the scrap of paper from that crazy woman.
Arkian. The oldest language in the world.
She was speaking Arkian.
Red hair. Red eyes. Arkian.
Could it be?
"Hey, slave, follow me!" Claude shouted, snapping Lucian out of it.
He lost the thought but followed Claude. They moved along the edge while Varro was occupied with the red-haired girl. She fought like an animal, clawing and biting, but Varro caught her by the chain and threw her across the arena. She hit the ground hard and rolled, already getting back up.
Johan charged in with his scales still hardened, shattering a boulder as he drove his shoulder into Varro's side. They attacked from the flank.
Varro grinned.
Then vanished.
Leo's sword swung where Varro had been and nearly took Lucian's head off.
"Watch it!" Lucian shouted.
Leo grinned. "Oops."
Claude looked up at the shirtless announcer, annoyed but still on guard. "Hey! This isn't fair. He's an Ascender of the Hunter class."
"Ahh, do I hear crying from a lowlife?" the announcer replied, laughing from his rope.
"Tsk." Claude scanned the arena. "Johan. He's on that rock."
Johan charged without hesitation, shattering the boulder with his fist. His hand clamped down on Varro's shoulder. "Constrain!" A faint light pulsed from his gauntlet as Varro froze in place.
"Interesting," Varro muttered, not even struggling.
"Leo, Lucy, now!" Claude ordered.
They ran. Leo's sword oozed a red aura as he aimed for Varro's neck. But Lucian noticed the angle of his swing. The trajectory would catch him too.
Lucian ducked.
Varro wove his iron hand through the air. Crimson threads materialized instantly, weaving into a shield that caught Leo's blade.
Varro vanished again.
"I lost him," Johan said, looking around.
Lucian charged low toward Leo while he was still recovering. Leo saw him coming and raised his sword for the counter.
Johan's hand caught the blade. "Leo! Stop. You can kill him after"
Before he finished, the red-haired girl slammed into Johan from the side, growling as she tore into him. It gave Lucian a chance to distance himself.
From somewhere in the arena, Varro laughed. "Khuhahaha! Beautiful. You can't even decide who to kill first."
"Woah! The game has turned into a four-way standoff!" the shirtless announcer shouted, swinging from his rope.
Lucian pressed his back against a rock and caught his breath.
He understood now. There were no allies in this place. Not even temporary ones. Just people with their own agenda. Luzerna wanted to use him as bait. Varro wanted them dead. The red-haired girl wanted to kill everything that moved.
His goal was to survive. That meant killing all of them.
But how?