Thaedric shouldn’t have worried.

Orso had been planning for this for years. And by planning, that meant collecting as many fighters as he could. Already, he had a lot of fighting slaves, but how did he plan to choose the one to represent him in the Gamemaster pit?

Thaedric was about to find out. The guard leading him was the lead guard that was there the day before. "Where did you get that scarf? I’ve not seen that material before."

’I’ve not seen it before either,’ Thaedric thought. Sandskar was currently in scarf form and around his neck, silent and still. "It’s my secret weapon," Thaedric said it like a joke.

The guard grunted and they walked in silence for a while, the guard shooting him sidelong looks. "You know...it’s a shame that Orso included you in this. I kind of like you, but the other fighters have been preparing for a day like this."

Thaedric nodded. Orso sent the guard to collect him this morning just after he ate breakfast. Malak was still sleeping when he left the room behind and followed the guard in what he thought was a meeting with Orso.

He studied the guard. "I am the Reaper Blood."

"Right," the guard chuckled. "Of course."

Thaedric knew the guard was humoring him, but he didn’t care. Soon they reached the end of the hallway and a door opened for them. "Don’t die quickly," the guard said.

He was still trying to process what the guard meant when the door was closed shut behind him. He was in a room that held a massive cage.

"About time," Orso said from his place. He was sitting down with a smoke in his hand. His guards surrounded him. "Reaper Blood. You are the last one to make it."

Thaedric understood immediately. In the cage were about thirty fighters. The cage was so big they were able to give themselves space. They all carried weapons.

"It’s a bloody last man standing," Thaedric muttered.

"What do you say? Impressive, right?" Orso asked. "You don’t see this every day."

But Thaedric was hardly listening to him. He was watching someone in the corner holding two daggers. Urlk. What was he doing here?

"Even the Scuridae is fighting," Thaedric asked flatly.

Orso narrowed his eyes. "He’s strong. All of them are the strongest below Tier Three. All of them have been tested."

"Not me." Thaedric knew where this was going. "You are not going to protect your investment? I might turn out more powerful than Malak." He rested his eyes on Orso. This was exactly what he needed. A chance to be the one that represented Orso. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

"An investment that will turn his dagger on me?" Orso spat.

Thaedric walked towards Orso. "Why don’t you let the Scuridae out of this? You know he’s not sane for this. He’s still...mourning." He didn’t know why, but Thaedric wasn’t about to let the last of the clan who saved him die.

Orso smirked. "Sure, why not? If you both make it to the end."

Thaedric knew what that smirk meant. That they wouldn’t last. That he wouldn’t last in that cage. "Where do I get my weapon?"

The weapons were stacked on a table, of different types and sizes. Thaedric looked away from the sharp ones until he saw what he was looking for.

"You’re picking that?" Orso asked in surprise.

Thaedric was holding a mace that was topped with a round metal ball. He tested the weight and then turned to Orso. "This is fine." It was heavier than his hammer, but it would do just fine.

He rested it on his shoulder and entered the cage, which was promptly closed and locked. Thaedric faced them. They were all looking at him.

And they all had glints in their eyes, except for Urlk, who was looking out with dull eyes. Thaedric understood what was happening. He was a stranger among them. These people had clawed their way up the ranks of Orso’s fighting slaves to become the best of the best.

Then there was Thaedric, who fought the same day he got here and made a name for himself. He also survived the dark room, which further spread his reputation.

It was him against them.

Thaedric smiled, his fangs flashing. "How are you doing, bastards!"

They hissed.

"I’m going to carve you, little boy." One tall Rashaka leveled his sword. He was the tallest there and he had the body mass to go with it.

"And feed him his insides." Another said. This one was covered by the darkness; only his eyes shone through.

Thaedric laughed. "Let’s not do that. We are all comrades here!" He smiled broadly.

Orso chuckled. He was standing close to the cage now. "Now, now. Let’s not be hasty. I’ll tell you the rules. The last man standing. That’s it," he shrugged. "You don’t have to kill your fellow fighters to make them stop standing. The last one standing will represent me!"

’So they can kill.’ Thaedric didn’t like the sound of that. He whispered, ’Sandskar, what is the remaining power you said you still have?’

He spoke directly to his head. "Nothing much, and not on the scale of my previous self at all. Coming here has locked me into the type of technique I was using when we entered your world. I can only do protective techniques."

"That should be enough. Focus on protecting me." Thaedric himself wasn’t as he was before. He was now in Tier Two. He could now practice Bloodline techniques.

With Sandskar protecting him, he should be able to focus on picking them off like choosing fruit in the market.

"Fight!" Orso bellowed.

The cage erupted. Thaedric tensed, ready for what was about to happen, but things had changed. He had forgotten something—these were slave fighters. They might have a collective hatred against him, but ultimately, they didn’t trust each other.

The fight began immediately and it wasn’t all directed at Thaedric as he thought.

The tall Rashaka started with a mighty slash that extended farther than it should have thanks to his technique and cut down those close to him in a splatter of blood.

"Well, fuck."