The scent of blood and sweat hung thick in the air. Ruean tensed as steel flashed toward him, slicing through the heat like a whip.

  Sidestepping the overhand swing, Ruean seized on the opportunity, with a sharp twist, he drove his sword straight into the gauntly man’s exposed hip.

  The man hissed and quickly jumped back, clutching his side with his free arm. Almost got him that time.

  The crowd erupted in excitement at the display of violence, briefly overwhelming Ruean’s senses. He pushed the noise away. Focus.

  Slowly circling around his opponent, gritty sand shifting beneath his sandals as he sought the perfect moment to strike. The man in front of him was hurt, that was for sure, but Ruean knew that any lucky blow could end it right there. When an animal is cornered, he fought the hardest. He knew that from experience.

  This fight had already taken longer than his previous, but he knew what he signed up for and kept up his concentration. He kept circling just a few steps away, the man turning to keep his eye on Ruean. I just need to find an opportunity to—

  The wounded man let out a primal roar and charged in desperately, his arm still holding the wounded side. The man’s sword flashed again, the tip biting into Ruean’s arm. His opponent reared back for another strike.

  Reacting fast, Ruean gripped his sword with both hands and slashed the man’s left hand, slicing straight through, and into the torso.

  The man froze, staring in shock at the stump where his hand used to be, and howled in pain. Dropping his blade in the blood soaked sands.

  Whispering a silent apology as he watched the man clutch his bleeding arm, Ruean looked off to the side. Naseau twisted in his gut, but he swallowed it down. Holding his sword arm up in a hollow victory.

  As part of the crowd cheered, and another jeered towards the now, disfigured man. That’s how it always went. His former supporters now roared for his death, a mob spitting on the man’s name. Ruean didn’t bother remembering it; it was be better that way. A stepping stone, a stranger on my path to ascension.

  He wanted nothing more than to crumble to the ground from exhaustion, but he just stood there, sword raised high, looking around the filled stadium.

  The announcer cut through the clamoring of the arena, “Once again, a dominating performance by Ruean, the Unbroken! What odds can’t he overcome?” The arena exploded in excitement again. It took all of his willpower to not scowl. Just get on with it. “The next bout of his will be on the second day of next week, against the feared Ghurab! Will Ruean’s streak continue, or will Ghurab bring him to his limits?”

  The gates on the sides of the arena opened up, and he briskly walked through the nearest pathway, leaving the burning sun and another broken man behind. The gate clanged shut behind him.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Ruean’s muscles ached as he picked up a tin bowl from the table and filled it with the slop the organizers called food. Just another part of glorious life he signed up for.

  Around him in the near empty dining hall, the silence only broken by the faint clinking of tin spoons against metal bowls, were the other contestants. They were sagging in their seats and looking just how he felt.

  A few had a far away stare, their minds reliving their bloody fight earlier today, probably. Maybe that was just him.

  He slid into a corner table, sitting on a wooden slab, the lanterns above him flickering occasionally, casting wavering shadows against the stone walls, making the already dark room look like a crypt. He stared at the bowl of gruel in front of him. Barely enough to keep me going. But… seconds are definitely out of the question.

  The doors of the hall creaked open. Ruean didn’t look up. It definitely wasn’t a friend, so why bother?

  He took a slow breath, the knot in his stomach seemingly tying itself tighter. Ghurab was a dawor, a rank higher than himself. It had only taken him shedding blood five times but he was a kulm, the fourth rank. That first promotion in the Midan had not been a pleasant one, nearly losing his head in the battle, but now another one was in his sight because of the fight today…

  Picking up the spoon, he forced his first bite down, trying to wash away the memories with its dull taste.

  If he won the next fight, he’d qualify for the ascension tournament. Anyone dawor or higher could enter. The fruits of his bloody labor were finally showing. Few more fights and then head home to help. Now I just need to win… easier said than done though. His thoughts flitting back to his opponent.

  Stories told about Ghurab paint her as ruthless. Born with a blade in each hand, quick, unpredictable and utterly without mercy. I’ll see if Ghurab has any fights scheduled and scout her fighting style, she’s quick but no one’s flawless. I just need to exploit one opportunity. His head spun through different plans, counters, weaknesses. He knew this fight would be different, she wasn’t reckless, desperate or afraid. He had to find a way—

  The table rattled as a fist slammed down, harshly dragging him out of his thoughts. Ruean tensed up, his hands instinctively clutching the hilt of his scimitar. He didn’t look up, but his senses sharpened as the shadow loomed over him. There were no friends in Midan.

  “The Unbroken huh, you’re going to have to change that name after your next fight!” A snide comment followed up with a deep guttural laughter.

  Ruean slowly raised his eyes, meeting the smirk of a man towering across from him. His scarred face twisted with amusement, eyes gleaming. Ruean recognized his bloated face immediately— Samir, a fellow kulm. One who liked to curb the competition.

  Seemingly unperturbed by his silence, Samir continued looking around the room and then back to him “I mean Ghurab? I wouldn’t fight ‘er even if the gods themselves told me so, right?”

  Another silence.

  His eyes narrowed into slits, realising and then immediately transitioning to being annoyed with the lack of response. He could see the signs. Any more of the silent treatment and this would spiral out of hand.

  “Yeah, real shame.” Ruean’s tone was dismissive, but it satisfied Samir well enough as he nodded in agreement. “Have you ever seen one of her fights?” The question slipped out before he had a chance to think.

  Samir looked around the room again and then leaned in a bit closer over the table, now in a hushed voice “Yeah I’ve seen her fight a’right, the demon. She’s a quick one, dodging attacks that I was sure were gonna hit, and I heard the last guy she fought had to be carried from Midan in pieces! Also, every time she gets a scratch on her opponent it’s like she goes feral, jumping on them trying to, drink. their. blood! Can ya believe that!?” He sat down, seemingly wrapped up in his own story, and slowly regaining his boisterous volume as it progressed.

  Ruean could not in fact believe that, and yet his appetite had completely vanished. He grunted in response and forced down another spoonful of slop. There was always a way.