Episode 3 — "Two Days to Kill"
The suns bled across the horizon as Kujo trudged through the dunes, each step sinking into fine grains that seemed determined to drag him down. The air was still hot, but there was a new edge to it — the kind of chill that creeps in once the day starts to die.
Two days. That was all he had before facing a Rank 65 opponent. He was Rank 20. The gap between them wasn't a hill. It was a mountain with no trail.
[Reminder: Combatants below Rank 30 have a survival rate of 7% against opponents above Rank 60.]
"Great," Kujo muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
The voice didn't reply.
The Bazaar
By nightfall, Kujo reached a cluster of lights flickering against the desert gloom. As he drew closer, the shapes resolved into tents of stitched hides, towers of scavenged metal, and fires that cast shadows as sharp as blades.
The Bazaar of Crathis-4.
It wasn't a market the way Earth had markets. There were no vendors calling out prices for fruit or cloth. Here, goods were traded in victory tokens, weapons in blood. Fighters limped through the stalls wearing dented armor and eyes that hadn't seen sleep in days. Some were human. Most were not.
Kujo's Combat Tracker pulsed faintly. [Location Verified: Official Neutral Zone]
The first stall he passed displayed rows of weapons — curved blades that shimmered faintly in the firelight, staffs with ends capped in jagged crystal, guns that hummed with quiet menace. He stopped, staring at a blade no longer than his forearm. Its edge caught the light in a way that made his eyes ache.
The vendor, a hunched creature with four thin arms, noticed his interest. "Fine steel from the Black Forge," it hissed. "Cuts through bone. Ten victory tokens."
Kujo opened his hands. Empty.
The vendor's grin was slow and sharp. "Then you cannot afford to even look."
Kujo walked away.
The Rules of Survival
At the far end of the bazaar, a wide board of black metal stood planted in the sand. Names and ranks scrolled across it in glowing letters. He found his own after a moment — Kujo: Rank 20. Below his name was a timer ticking down in bright red.
[Time until match: 45:11:07]
"Forty-five hours," Kujo said under his breath.
"Plenty of time to die before then," a voice said beside him.
He turned to see a man leaning against the board, his armor patchwork, his left arm replaced by a black metal prosthetic. One eye was cybernetic, glowing faintly blue.
"Name's Draven," the man said. "You're new."
Kujo didn't reply.
Draven smirked. "Don't talk much. Smart. Talking gets you challenged, challenged gets you killed."
He gestured toward the bazaar. "You've got no gear, no tokens, and you're about to face someone more than twice your rank. You've got two choices: find a way to gear up, or prepare to be sand dust."
"How do I get tokens?" Kujo asked.
"Fight in the side pits," Draven said. "Small matches. No rank changes, but the crowd pays in tokens if you put on a good show. Win enough, you might afford something that'll keep you alive."
Kujo nodded once. "Where?"
Draven's grin widened. "Follow me."
The Side Pits
The "pit" was just a ring drawn in the sand behind a cluster of tents, surrounded by shouting spectators. Fighters stepped in two at a time — some armed, some barehanded — while wagers were tossed into a glowing orb that floated above the crowd.
Draven pointed toward a lanky creature with spined shoulders and four eyes. "That one's mid-tier for these fights. Win against him, you'll make five tokens easy."
Kujo stepped into the ring. The crowd's roar was immediate — some mocking, some curious. The creature hissed, its eyes narrowing.
The fight began without a signal. The spined fighter lunged, claws flashing. Kujo's body moved before his mind caught up, dropping low and sweeping the legs. The creature fell, rolled, and came up slashing again.
Instinct Combat flared in Kujo's nerves — left, now right, duck. He obeyed without thought, slipping past the strikes, feeling the rush of air from each miss. He closed the distance, slamming a fist into the creature's midsection. It doubled over. Kujo's knee met its jaw.
The crowd howled.
The creature staggered, spitting dark blood, but didn't fall. It slashed again, catching Kujo's shoulder. Pain flared white-hot, but he twisted, grabbed an arm, and drove the creature headfirst into the sand.
It didn't get up.
[Side Pit Victory Achieved]
[Reward: 5 Tokens]
The crowd's noise became a wall of sound. Kujo left the ring without raising his hands.
Gear
By the time the suns rose again, Kujo had fought in five more pits, earning a total of 25 tokens. Enough to stop being barehanded.
He returned to the first vendor. The blade he'd seen the night before still hung in its place.
"I'll take it," Kujo said.
The vendor's grin returned. "Wise."
The weapon fit his hand perfectly. Light, balanced. Deadly.
[Item Acquired: Shortblade — Black Forge Steel]
[Bonus: +10% attack efficiency]
Preparation
Kujo spent the rest of the day moving through the dunes outside the bazaar, getting used to the blade's weight. He slashed at stone outcroppings, practiced feints and strikes. Instinct Combat made him precise, but now there was something more — a sense of rhythm, as if the blade was part of him.
The voice in his head spoke for the first time since the pits.
[Advisory: Your opponent, Rank 65 — "The Glass Scorpion" — utilizes speed-based toxin strikes. Recommend anti-venom preparation.]
Kujo frowned. Anti-venom meant more tokens. Tokens meant more fights. More fights meant risking injury before the real battle.
But dying from poison wasn't an option.
⸻
The Last Fight Before the Fight
That night, Kujo stepped into the side pit one last time. His opponent was human — tall, with a shaved head and arms covered in ink. The man carried twin knives and smiled like someone who enjoyed cutting more than winning.
The fight was fast. The knives flashed in the firelight, but the blade in Kujo's hand met them again and again, sparks jumping in the dark. His opponent feinted left; Instinct warned him, and Kujo pivoted, slashing across the man's thigh.
Blood sprayed. The crowd roared.
The man came at him harder, but Kujo's strikes were faster now — deliberate, controlled. One opening, one thrust, and the fight ended with his blade at the man's throat.
[Side Pit Victory Achieved]
[Reward: 8 Tokens]
Enough for anti-venom.
Night Before the Match
Back in the bazaar, Kujo purchased a small vial of shimmering blue liquid. The vendor explained its use: one drop on the tongue before battle. Any toxin short of god-tier would burn away.
Kujo sat on the edge of the dunes that night, the vial in one hand, his new blade in the other. The Combat Tracker pulsed on his wrist.
[Time until match: 08:12:54]
Eight hours until he faced the Glass Scorpion.
Eight hours until the universe decided whether Kujo climbed another step… or was buried under the sands of Crathis-4 forever.
He stared at the rising suns and tightened his grip on the blade.
One fight at a time.