The contestants' resting room was nothing more than an old storage shack crudely repurposed. The stench of sweat, blood, and cheap potions fused into a foul odor that assaulted my nose the moment I stepped inside.
My steps faltered, my body felt like it had lost all bones supporting it. Every movement was like stepping on shards of glass that pierced deep into my flesh. The wound on my arm was swollen, its throbbing pulse pounding like a war drum calling forth death.
Inside, a few contestants who had survived the first round leaned weakly against the grimy walls. Some lay half-conscious, while others tended to their wounds with tattered cloth. The atmosphere here... it was more like a morgue awaiting its next occupants than a resting room.
Elfea followed me in, her face pale. Her eyes were filled with a worry she could no longer hide.
"Rey! Sit down! You're losing too much blood!" she cried, panicked. She forced me onto a rickety bench that creaked ominously, then opened her worn-out satchel and pulled out a simple healing potion. The liquid was thick and dark, releasing a bitter, pungent scent.
When it touched my wound, the burn was searing, like fire devouring my flesh. I clenched my teeth, barely suppressing a scream.
"You idiot... you almost died out there, Rey!" she hissed, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger.
I took a deep breath, swallowing the pain and bitterness whole. "I told you… I'm not going to die that easily."
Elfea stared at me, eyes glassy. "That was just the first round, Rey. Half the participants are down... or carried out on stretchers. This is insane! This isn't a tournament... it's a slaughterhouse!"
I said nothing. I knew. I had seen it with my own eyes.
This contest... it was more than just a test of strength. It was war disguised as entertainment.
"By the way... Elfea... where'd you get that potion?" I asked between pained breaths.
Elfea bit her lip, then replied softly, "A healer gave it to me. I don't even know who he was... he just handed it to me without a word."
I looked at her, confused, but said nothing more. In a tournament like this, even kindness feels suspicious.
Elfea lowered her gaze. "I… I can't use my healing magic here. If they find out... the royal officials might get suspicious of us."
I closed my eyes. I knew the risk.
I glanced toward the door. From the crack, the announcement of the next round echoed through, followed by the bloodthirsty cheers of the crowd and the tolling of bells that sounded more like a death march than a call to battle.
"I know, Elfea... but I have no other choice." My voice was heavy, tired... but deep within, a small flame still burned, refusing to be extinguished. "I have to win."
Elfea clenched her fists and lowered her head, then in a voice so low only I could hear, she whispered, "Rey... I'm scared of losing you."
I looked at her for a long moment, letting the suffocating silence consume the room.
Around us, the shallow breaths of other contestants echoed like the whispers of death, patiently waiting for its turn.
Suddenly, the door to the rest area burst open.
A Moniyan soldier stepped in with heavy footsteps. His stare was cold, his demeanor stiff—like someone inspecting livestock before a slaughter.
"Surviving contestants, prepare yourselves. The second round begins in one hour. Anyone late… will be disqualified."
Without waiting for a response, he left, intensifying the already stifling air. Like a ticking time bomb in all our chests.
I lowered my gaze and clenched the rag in my hand.
One hour... just one hour to prepare a body on the verge of collapse for another death match.
I closed my eyes, drawing a long, ragged breath.
I have to endure.
For my dream… for my mother…
"Rey…" Elfea's voice trembled, on the edge of breaking. "Please... stop this if you can't go on anymore. I... I can't bear to watch you die... just for your stupid pride."
I turned slowly to face her, meeting her pleading eyes. I gave a faint smile, but my eyes... were cold, like ice daring the sun to try and melt them.
"This isn't about pride, Elfea. It's about survival."
I drank the rest of the potion, the liquid scalding my throat like poison.
"I haven't lost yet. I'm not… done."
Outside, the roars of Moniyan's citizens echoed like a devil's lullaby, yearning for fresh blood to spill across the arena floor.
And I... was part of that bloody spectacle.
One hour passed in what felt like a blink. Or maybe... time simply held no meaning here.
I sat silently on that shaky bench, letting the pain eat away at every inch of my body. The wound on my arm hadn't fully healed, though Elfea's potion had dulled the edge. But I knew… it was just delaying the inevitable.
All around me, other contestants started to move—slowly, like corpses dragged back to life for one more round. Their faces… blank, eyes hollow. No more hope, just a primal will to survive etched into the darkness of their souls.
Elfea sat beside me, still holding my trembling hand, though I could feel her fear growing. Not just fear of the contest… but fear of what I was becoming.
"Rey... I have a bad feeling about this second round…" her voice trembled, nearly drowned out by the pained breaths of the others.
I nodded. I felt it too.
The second round… would be worse. Bloodier.
I inhaled deeply and stood slowly, forcing my broken body to rise again. I picked up the kitchen knife I'd used—still coated with thick, dark blood.
In the corner, an old man—perhaps the oldest contestant here—was sharpening his blade while chanting a prayer in a language I didn't recognize.
The room felt like hell with its gates half-opened. Everyone knew… round two would be a more brutal purge.
"I overheard one of the guards..." Elfea whispered. "They said… the second round won't be one-on-one anymore. It's... group combat."
I turned quickly. "Groups?"
She nodded, face pale. "They'll throw you into a larger arena. But not to fight together... no. You'll be forced to kill each other. Random groups. No rules."
I gripped my knife tighter.
"They want you all to become beasts, Rey. To tear each other apart."
I stayed silent for a long time. In my mind, I could already see the blood, hear the screams, and imagine the faces that would become corpses in mere minutes.
And I… would have to be one of the survivors.
Suddenly, the great bell in the city's center tolled loudly, shaking the walls of the rest chamber. A voice rang out from the watchtower.
"Surviving contestants... report to the main arena. Round two... begins now."
There was no more time to rest. No time for fear.
I looked at Elfea. Her eyes were shimmering with tears.
"Rey… whatever happens... please… don't lose who you are."
I gave a faint smile. But deep down, I knew... I might have to throw away that part of me just to survive.
I reached out and touched her cheek for a moment. "I'll come back, Elfea... no matter what."
With heavy steps, I walked out of the rest area, joining the other contestants as we headed toward the next killing ground.
The roars of the crowd echoed like a demon's call for fresh offerings.
Beneath the darkening sky, the second arena awaited us. Bigger... crueler... thirstier for blood.
And I knew... this time, not everyone would leave alive.
I... might have to become a monster among monsters.