Back in their room, Orochi was pacing furiously back and forth. Althea watched, seated on the edge of the bed, eyes pinging back and forth as she followed his movements. Muttering under his breath, Orochi tried to figure out the finer details before finally turning on his heel and taking a deep breath.
"I will fight."
The words fell dead in the air. The deadpan look on Althea's face deflated his shoulders slightly. It had been over two days since their visit to the underground fight pits. During that time, Althea had gathered information while Orochi tested his strength, doing push-ups and working out to feel the limits of his body. Clearly, he still had a long way to go.
Althea sat quietly for a moment, staring at the wooden floor between her feet, thinking about how to phrase her next words.
"When you were five and your elder sister was six, both of you had a duel. I was there when you picked up the practice sword. It was made of wood, yet still too heavy for your hands. You lost to her, Oro. It was… a sound defeat."
That defeat was also the reason the rumour of the seventh son having no sword arm began to circulate. A noble unable to wield a sword was looked down upon more than an impotent man.
"Even you should know, Oro, it has been months since you have had any form of training. It would be courting death for you to enter the Pit."
If he had more spirit power, he could convert it into Body Constitution, expanding the serpent veins to other areas of his body. At present, the serpent veins only circulated around his torso, which had eliminated fat and strengthened his muscles. The rest of his body would require training for now. Still, he was by no means an athlete, but certainly better than Imposter, who in their past life could barely run for a minute without gasping for breath.
"You are not wrong, but I will have one advantage the others will not," Orochi replied, walking toward the window. He leaned against the sill, looking up at the palace nestled behind the Inner Wall. "I am a Spirit User."
Althea inhaled sharply. "Spirit Power is forbidden. They have tests to verify it, and if we are caught…"
The Pits were meant for the Middle and Lower City. Spirit Users resided within the Inner Wall. Events such as the Pits were seen as beneath Spirit Users. Not only that, but by the nature of their existence, the Pits were technically illegal. So far, it was tolerated under the pretense that they satisfied the masses. The Colosseum within the Inner Wall was considered far more refined. Refined meaning the quality of the audience was different.
Violence was violence at the end of the day.
We won't get caught," Orochi replied confidently.
"Is this to do with your Spirit Contract?" Althea asked. She had been curious about it for some time now. Over the days they had spent together, she had grown increasingly convinced that the contract Orochi had made was not with the Patron God of House Moon-Born, a theory she had yet to confirm.
Orochi nodded slowly, carefully choosing his words, partly because he himself did not truly understand what his Spirit Contract was, or with whom it had been made.
"Yes. They will not be able to detect me."
"Hmmm."
Seemingly unsatisfied, Althea chewed the inside of her cheek and chose not to press further. Orochi was not proud of planning to cheat, but circumstances had forced his hand. After all, if he was going to be in the business of selling criminals, there was not much of a moral line left to cross.
"Don't like this, Oro," Althea whispered.
"Neither do I. But if we don't do this, you and I will both end up on a table, probably missing a heart and maybe a lung or two," Orochi quipped, stepping back from the window with his hands folded behind him.
That earned a small smile from Althea. "I guess we don't have much of a choice then."
"No, I guess we don't," Orochi replied, nodding to her as the shared determination settled between them.
╰┈➤.
The Pit, as the locals referred to it, was open every single night, with the most popular days being Satas and Sundas, the weekends of Nagalon. By then, many came to spend money that was desperately needed elsewhere, all to bet on blood and bone.
Orochi followed closely behind Althea as she weaved through the heaving, screaming mass of Seabore City's underbelly. The air was thick with sweat and salt. Dried brine clung to the boots of shipmen, while shouted bets rang out from every direction. Men held out small bags of coins, pressing them into the hands of gold-toothed keepers who tallied wins and losses with quick, practiced motions.
It was quite a sight.
As they circled toward the main pit, the two finally spotted the man through whom everything in the Pits flowed.
Warden Calden.
A warden was meant to embody order, yet the Pits were chaos incarnate. The man himself was surprisingly young. Stranger still, the rumours in the Lower City spoke of him as a sage, a man of the people.
He was the one they would have to convince to let a teenager fight to the death.
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