The eastern arena felt like a gilded version of hell.
Cheers from thousands of spectators thundered through the towering stone walls that enclosed the battleground. The rising sun scorched the sand-covered ground, turning it into a searing furnace. The air was thick with the metallic stench of blood, sweat, and steel—leftovers from the previous round that hadn't even fully dried.
I stood at the boundary line, breath quivering, heart pounding. My legs felt like lead, my entire body silently screaming at me to flee from this killing ground.
"Begin!"
The announcer's voice echoed across the arena, shattering the tension like a thunderclap and unleashing a storm of violence.
Five of us moved immediately, scattering in different directions. Two of them charged at each other without hesitation, colliding in the center with an explosion of sparks and steel. A longsword clashed against a heavy axe, ringing out with deadly music that sent the crowd into a frenzy.
I stayed to the edges, moving carefully, observing, analyzing—waiting for my moment.
The kitchen knife in my grip felt absurdly small, like a child's toy mistakenly brought into a battlefield. But it was all I had. With only a sliver of fire magic gifted to me by Elfea, I had to turn it into a tiger's fang... even if I was just a rabbit in disguise.
"Hah? You cowardly brat!"
A rough voice called out from my left. A bulky man with spiked chains swaggered toward me, a mocking grin plastered across his face. "Skulking on the edge like a rat, huh? Think you'll survive just by hiding?!"
He swung his chain with brutal strength. The metal shrieked through the air, carving a deadly arc.
I dodged, but the tip of the chain grazed my shoulder, tearing my shirt and drawing a hot line of blood.
"Damn it…" I muttered through clenched teeth, pain flaring.
I couldn't keep dodging. If I did, I'd just end up as a practice dummy.
I stared down at my kitchen knife.
I had to believe… even if it felt stupid.
I surged forward, dropping low, making my body as small a target as possible. The man laughed, scornful. "Trying to get yourself killed?!"
The spiked chain came down again, whistling through the air. But this time, I read its path. I darted right, sidestepped like a rabbit, and dove in closer.
"DIE!"
As he wound up for a third strike, I stabbed my knife into the ground and channeled fire magic through my palm. The earth beneath us erupted in a small blast.
It wasn't much—but enough to stagger him.
I yanked the knife free and drove it into his left thigh.
"ARGHH!! DAMN YOU!!"
Fire magic flowed into the wound, igniting the flesh from within.
He thrashed and howled, collapsing in agony.
I stood over him, breath ragged, heart hammering—but I was still standing.
One down.
Four remain.
There was no time to savor the small victory. Two others who had just dispatched their opponents now turned their eyes to me.
"Shit... that kid's dangerous," muttered one—a wiry man wielding a spear.
"Don't give him a chance. Kill him," snapped the other—a woman with twin scythes.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. This was bad.
I had used up a lot of energy dealing with the chain-wielder. If they attacked together... I was done.
I swallowed hard and steadied my breath. I twirled the knife in my hand; its fire magic was dimming fast. I had to conserve every last drop.
"Rey… don't be reckless..." came Elfea's whisper from the distance.
I knew she was watching.
I knew she was worried.
I gripped the knife tighter.
"Okay, Rey," I muttered. "You've got one shot at this."
They charged in together.
I bolted toward the edge of the arena, feigning panic.
They chased me like ravenous wolves.
I waited… waited…
Until they entered the trap I'd planned in my head.
Just before they reached striking distance, I halted abruptly and dashed forward. They faltered for a split second, surprised.
I scraped the knife against the sand, flinging a spray of hot dust into their eyes.
"Bastard!"
"Damn you!!"
Both of them recoiled, shielding their faces.
I lunged at the spear-wielder and stabbed him in the shoulder with my remaining fire magic.
"ARGH!"
He staggered back, leaving the scythe-woman exposed.
I kicked her hard in the side, sending her sprawling.
Now it was just her and me.
Her eyes blazed with fury.
"You'll regret this, brat," she hissed.
I held my knife in both hands.
"I've been regretting this since I stepped into the arena," I replied with a bitter smirk.
We clashed, throwing everything we had. A kitchen knife against twin scythes.
I knew I wasn't a hero. I was just a village boy.
But here in this arena... I would fight like a lion.
Her scythe slashed dangerously close to my face. I ducked, the wind from her blade grazing my temple. My breathing was heavy now. My knees trembled. But I couldn't back down.
She attacked with relentless ferocity, her movements deadly and refined. She was clearly trained in close combat—a far cry from me, a mere farmer's son.
"Hah! Getting tired already?" she taunted, spinning midair. Her scythes formed a deadly circle that forced me to retreat.
The crowd roared. I could hear jeers from the stands. "That kid's done for!"
My ears burned. My chest felt like it was on fire. But not from fear. From rage. Rage at being underestimated. Rage at being looked down on.
I remembered my mother's face. I remembered the small, empty room where I waited for her, day after day.
I couldn't lose here.
I clenched my jaw. If her blades were sharper… then my will had to be stronger.
I waited for her next leap. I had seen the pattern. She always favored her right, striking from above.
And… there it was.
As she jumped, I flung sand into her eyes.
"DAMN YOU!!" she screamed, staggering.
I dashed forward like an arrow, driving my knife into her abdomen.
But—her scythe still moved, slashing my arm.
Blood sprayed. It burned. It hurt. But I held on. I gritted my teeth and forced my last flame into her wound.
She screamed like a wounded beast, her body igniting from within.
The crowd fell silent for a moment… then erupted in savage cheers.
I collapsed to my knees, gasping for breath. My body was a canvas of cuts and bruises. My hands trembled violently—but I had won.
The announcer's voice boomed through the chaos.
"The winner of this round... Contestant Number 42!"
I lowered my head, staring at the cracked blade of my kitchen knife. The fire within it was nearly gone. My hands shook as I clung to it.
From the edge of the arena, I heard Elfea shouting with relief. But I couldn't turn toward her.
Blood dripped from my arm. My shoulder throbbed with pain. But I was alive. I had survived the slaughter.
Yet I knew—this was only the beginning. The tournament… had just begun.
I looked up at the sun-bleached sky. Sweat and blood trickled down my face.
And I whispered to myself—
"It's still not enough… I'm not allowed to die yet."