The vision of the pit faded — the roars, the blood, the molten-eyed monster who tore ninety-nine demons apart and crushed a general beneath his fist.
Kairo blinked. The silence of his cell returned, chains rattling faintly as he stirred. His breath was ragged, his body still trembling from the trial.
And in the corner stood Igron, his cloak draped in shadow, his eyes sharp as ever.
"You saw it, didn't you?" Igron's voice was low, knowing. "The trial he survived. The general he killed. The madness that crowns him."
Kairo's crimson eyes narrowed. His voice came out hoarse. "Veyrith."
Igron nodded once. He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving the boy's.
"He is not like Baalvrix, who schemes. Not like the Boneyard, who lusts for bones. Veyrith is… something else. A beast that found meaning only in the string — the thin edge between life and death. He chases it, forever."
Kairo clenched his fists weakly, blood seeping from reopened wounds. "And when that string points at me?"
Igron's lips curved faintly, though there was no humor in it.
"Then you had better pray your Dance is flawless. Because if you falter, even once…" His eyes hardened. "…he will split you open, body and soul, just to hear the string snap."
For a moment, silence lingered between them. The torch hissed, chains rattled. Kairo lowered his gaze, the weight of the warning heavy on his shoulders.
Igron turned to leave, his cloak brushing the floor.
"Be careful, Kairo. The arena may break you. But Veyrith…" He paused, his voice sharpening. "…Veyrith will enjoy it."
The door shut behind him, leaving Kairo in the half-dark. His crimson eyes glowed faintly, unblinking, fixed on the shadows.
He had survived the ninety-nine.
But somewhere above, a monster who had done the same was smiling, waiting for his turn.