By the time I reached the pit, the sound reached me before the structure did, rising above the usual noise of the settlement in waves of shouting, metal clanging, and something else beneath it all that felt closer to anticipation than simple excitement. The closer I got, the thicker the crowd became, people moving in the same direction with a shared purpose that did not need explanation, because on Skorrag there were only a few things capable of pulling this many people away from work at the same time, and the pit was always at the top of that list.
The structure revealed itself gradually, rising out of what had once been an old scrapyard, its original purpose still visible beneath the modifications that had transformed it into something else entirely. Layers of rough metal had been welded together into a massive square enclosure, the grandstand built upward in tiers that surrounded the central arena on all four sides, each level supported by beams that looked like they had been salvaged from different machines and forced into place through necessity rather than design. The entire structure creaked intermittently as the crowd shifted, the sound sharp and uneven, but instead of making people uneasy, it added to the atmosphere, as though the instability itself was part of the experience.
There were three main entrances to the pit, two positioned for the audience and one kept separate, hidden from direct view, reserved for the fighters. I moved toward one of the public entries, slipping through the crowd with practiced ease, and as I approached, I saw familiar faces at the checkpoint, men I had once worked alongside when we were all still rats trying to survive on scraps.
One of them glanced at me, recognition flickering across his face before he smirked slightly and waved me through without a word, saving me the cost of entry that I could not have afforded anyway. It was a small advantage, but on a planet like this, small advantages were everything.
Inside, the scale of the pit became clearer.
It was full.
Every tier was packed with bodies, people pressed shoulder to shoulder, voices overlapping in constant motion as bets were placed, arguments were made, and attention shifted toward the center where the real focus of the crowd lay. The higher tiers were occupied by those with more influence or resources, the so-called elites of Skorrag, while the lower and outer sections were left to the rest of us, those who came for the chance to win something or simply to feel something other than routine.
I moved toward one of the outer tiers and found a place to sit, positioning myself far enough from the inner sections that no one would bother me, but close enough to see what was happening in the arena below.
The fight had already ended.
Or rather, one of them had.
A man lay on the ground in the center of the pit, his body twisted at an unnatural angle, blood pooling beneath him in a way that left no room for doubt about his condition. Defeat did not quite describe it, because on Skorrag there was no system in place to recover from something like that. There were no medics rushing in, no intervention, no second chances. What happened in the pit stayed in the pit, and if you lost badly enough, you did not leave it.
I shifted my gaze.
To the one still standing.
The contrast was immediate.
He stood upright, balanced, composed in a way that felt entirely separate from everything else around him, and even at a distance, there was something about him that did not belong to this planet. His armor was the first thing that stood out, formed from chitinous plates that layered over his body with a clean precision that suggested both wealth and access to materials that Skorrag did not provide. The surface carried a muted sheen, not polished for display, but maintained with care, each segment fitting together with deliberate intent.
His build was lean, almost deceptively so, his movements controlled and efficient, and for a moment I found myself wondering if I had misjudged him, if what I was looking at was something other than what it appeared to be, because there was a fluidity to his stance that made it difficult to place him immediately.
Then I noticed the weapon.
A long spear, crudely constructed by the standards of anything outside Skorrag, its shaft reinforced with salvaged metal, its tip sharpened into something functional rather than refined, and yet in his hands it did not look improvised.
It looked natural.
Like an extension.
That was when it became clear.
The weapon was local.
The man was not.
As I focused on him, I waited for the overlay to appear, but nothing came, not even a flicker, and I realized after a moment that the distance was too great for the identifier to resolve him clearly.
I narrowed my eyes slightly, leaning forward as if that would help, but the system remained silent, offering no reading, no classification, nothing to confirm what I was seeing.
Which meant one thing.
Whatever he was, he was too far—or too significant—for me to measure from here.
The announcer's voice cut through the noise of the crowd, amplified through a system that barely held together but did its job well enough to carry across the entire structure.
"Old codger is knocked out!" the voice boomed, carrying a tone of exaggerated excitement that fed directly into the crowd's energy. "And the Silver Prince moves on! Who will take him down for five thousand silver?"
The reaction was immediate, the number alone enough to spark movement across the stands as people began shouting, calculating, considering the risk against the reward.
Five thousand silver.
That was enough to leave this planet.
Not just for me.
For Mary too.
The thought hit harder than I expected, settling into something dangerous, because for a moment, I allowed myself to imagine it.
Leaving.
Actually leaving.
Then reality followed.
I looked back at the man in the arena.
There was no way.
Not like this.
"Up next!" the announcer continued, barely pausing as the next match was set. "One-Armed Doe faces the Silver Prince for a prize of five thousand coins!"
The number shifted the atmosphere instantly.
Coins.
Not silver alone.
A broader value.
Enough to convert into higher denominations.
Enough to change everything.
I leaned forward slightly as movement began at the fighter's entrance, the hidden gate opening just enough to allow the next participant to step through.
John Doe.
He moved into the arena with the same steady presence he carried everywhere else, his mechanical arm hanging at his side, his expression unreadable as he took his position opposite the Silver Prince. There was no hesitation in his posture, no sign of uncertainty, only a quiet readiness that suggested experience rather than confidence.
The two faced each other.
The crowd quieted slightly, not completely, but enough for the tension to settle into something sharper, more focused, as everyone waited for the moment the fight would begin.
That was when Angel spoke.
"Learning environment identified," she said, her voice clearer than before, carrying a tone that felt more engaged than anything she had shown so far. "Initiating combat analysis protocols. Sensory integration enhanced."
The effect was immediate.
The world shifted.
Not physically, but perceptually, as if something had adjusted the way I processed what I was seeing, and movements became clearer and sharper, with the spacing between the fighters easier to track and the subtle shifts in posture more noticeable than they had been a moment before.
I inhaled slowly as a new layer of information began to surface at the edge of my vision, faint at first, then stabilizing into something structured, something intentional, as Angel's voice returned with a tone that felt more focused than before.
The effect was immediate, not physically but perceptually, as if something had adjusted the way I processed what I was seeing, and movements became clearer and sharper, with the spacing between the fighters easier to track and the subtle shifts in posture more noticeable than they had been a moment before.
I inhaled slowly, letting the change settle as Angel's processes stabilized in the background, and for the first time since everything began, I felt like I was not just watching what unfolded in the arena below.
I was learning.