The Chains of Silence
The arena breathed in silence.
No birds. No wind. Only dust drifting lazily in the shafts of sunlight that pierced the sky.
Twenty-two survivors stood in a crooked half-circle around the fighting pit. Their eyes were haunted, hollow, their bodies wrapped in bloodied bandages. Every breath rattled like a broken bellows. They had crawled through the mist and river of death—but this test was different. This one asked them to kill the bonds they had bled for.
And at the center—two boys.
Daren. Fin.
The names carried weight now. Brothers, not by blood, but by choice. Their shoulders sagged under invisible chains as they faced one another.
Daren's chipped sword glinted faintly, trembling in his grip. His broad chest rose and fell like a war drum. Yet his eyes—his eyes could not look at Fin.
Fin's short blade wavered like a leaf caught in a storm. His legs shook so badly he looked ready to collapse even before the fight began. Sweat clung to his hair. He looked so small in that circle, so fragile it broke the heart to even watch.
And above them, arms folded like a merciless god, stood Verya. His cloak hung still despite the faint breeze, as though even the wind feared him.
His voice cut the air like steel:
Verya:
"First match—Daren versus Fin."
The sound dropped like a hammer, echoing across the dead arena.
Kaen's fists clenched instantly, nails biting into his palms. His voice, a whisper that trembled with rage, barely reached Lyra's ears.
Kaen (whisper):
"Why them… why those two…"
Lyra pressed a hand to her mouth, her throat tightening. Her eyes burned as she whispered back:
Lyra (whisper):
"They're not fighting enemies… they're being forced to fight themselves…"
Across the pit, the untouched group—five trainees who had somehow survived the trials without a single scratch—leaned against the wall. Their uniforms were spotless, their postures lazy.
One smirked cruelly.
Untouched 1 (mocking):
"Look at them. They can't even lift their blades."
Another chuckled, folding his arms.
Untouched 2:
"Children playing at soldiers. This will be over in seconds."
Their words slithered into Fin's ears like poison. His hands trembled harder. He lowered his gaze, shoulders quivering.
Fin (inner monologue, broken):
They're right… I'm weak. I've always been weak. If I don't fight… I'll be erased here. I don't want to disappear… I can't—
Verya's voice, cold and absolute, slammed down again.
Verya:
"Begin."
The air itself seemed to freeze.
Neither Daren nor Fin moved.
Every heartbeat was thunder. Every breath was a blade at the throat.
---
Daren's jaw locked, teeth grinding. His sword felt like a curse in his hands. His arms refused to lift it.
Daren (inner monologue):
Fight him? No. This isn't war. This is slaughter. They want us to kill what's left of ourselves.
He dared a glance at Fin. The boy's eyes shimmered wet with tears, lips trembling. His short blade scraped softly against the dirt, too heavy for him.
Fin (inner monologue, pleading):
Please… not like this. Not against you, Daren. Don't make me fight you. Let this end before it begins.
But silence was heavier than any blade.
Seconds stretched into eternity. The untouched laughed. The survivors trembled. And still—the brothers stood frozen, chained by everything that had brought them here.
The Arena of Silence lived up to its name.
---
The Desperate Dance
It started with desperation, not courage.
Fin's body lurched forward.
His legs buckled, arms flailing, blade raised in trembling hands. His cry split the silence—not a roar of courage, but a sob dressed as a scream.
Fin (crying out):
"Ahhh—!"
The short blade swung, crooked and weak.
Daren's body moved on instinct. His sword snapped up. Steel clashed against steel, shrieking with sparks that scattered like fireflies.
Gasps tore from the crowd. A few survivors flinched as if the blow had landed on their own hearts.
The untouched only laughed.
Untouched 1:
"Finally! And here I thought they were statues."
Untouched 2 (snorting):
"That swing wouldn't cut bread."
Fin stumbled back a step, chest heaving, arms shaking violently. His sweat mixed with tears. Still, he tightened his grip on the blade.
Daren stood firm, though his arms trembled—not from Fin's strength, but from holding back the force of his counter.
Daren (inner monologue):
I could've ended it just now. I could've broken his guard. But I stopped. Because if I fight… if I strike… I'll kill him. And I'd rather break myself than break him.
Another shaky swing. Daren sidestepped, letting the blade slice air.
Fin (whispering, gasping):
"I… I can't do this."
Yet his body betrayed him, forcing another strike. And another. Each more desperate, more unbalanced.
Daren blocked them all, sparks flying like fleeting stars. He did not attack back.
The untouched jeered louder.
Untouched 3 (mocking):
"Pathetic. This isn't a duel—it's a funeral song."
The words pierced Fin more deeply than any blade.
His vision blurred. His chest ached. But he kept swinging, tears flying with every strike.
And every block was Daren whispering silently: I won't hurt you. I won't kill you.
---
Verya's voice thundered, cold and merciless.
Verya:
"Resolve is survival. Hesitation is death!"
The words slammed into Fin like a hammer. His grip tightened, his body screaming in terror.
Fin (inner monologue, frantic):
Hesitation… is death? Then if I stop, I'm already dead. If I hesitate… I disappear.
He lunged again, screaming through his tears.
Fin (screaming):
"Fight me, Daren!! Fight me seriously!"
Their blades rang again and again. Sparks scattered in rhythm with their heartbeats. The audience couldn't hear it—but every strike was a plea.
Fin's strikes cried: End this with me.
Daren's blocks whispered: No, I'll carry this for you.
---
The Breaking Point
Their swords locked, steel grinding, sparks bursting between their faces.
Sweat, tears, blood—they mixed into the dirt. Their breaths, hot and ragged, drowned out the world.
Fin (pleading, voice breaking):
"Why aren't you fighting me?! Do you think I'm weak?! Do you pity me?!"
Daren (inner monologue, breaking):
Pity you? No, Fin. I respect you more than anyone. That's why I can't raise this blade against you.
But Fin's tears kept falling. His blade kept striking. His sobs turned into screams.
The survivors shook. Lyra clutched Kaen's arm, whispering.
Lyra (whispering):
"They're breaking apart…"
Kaen's nails dug into his palms, his jaw trembling.
Kaen (gritting teeth):
"Damn it… this isn't a fight. It's torture."
Riku's eyes narrowed, his lips pressed thin. For once, even he couldn't hide the crack in his calm.
---
Finally, Fin lunged again.
Fin (crying out):
"Fight meee—!!"
And Daren roared, the sound tearing from his chest like a beast wounded beyond healing.
Daren (roaring):
"FIIIIIIN!!!"
His sword swung—not to kill, but to survive.
The blow was devastating. Sparks exploded like fireworks. Fin's short blade cracked, then shattered, fragments scattering across the dirt.
But the strike didn't end there. The chipped steel slashed across Fin's side, cutting deep.
Blood sprayed into the dirt.
Fin gasped, eyes wide, and collapsed to one knee. His weapon was gone. His chest heaved, blood soaking his shirt.
The survivors gasped. Lyra cried out.
Lyra (screaming):
"FIN!!"
Daren froze. His sword hovered inches from Fin's throat, trembling.
The world went still.
---
Ashes of Brotherhood
Fin coughed, blood on his lips. His eyes trembled as he looked up at Daren.
Fin (whispering, broken):
"…Why… why didn't you finish it?"
Tears slid down Daren's face. His voice trembled, his whole body shaking.
Daren (voice breaking):
"Because I'd rather betray this world… than betray you."
His blade fell from his hand, clattering into the dirt. He dropped to his knees, grabbing Fin's shoulders, his tears mixing with his brother's blood.
Daren (pleading):
"You're my brother, Fin! I won't kill you—not for them, not for anyone!"
Fin sobbed, collapsing against Daren's chest. His blood spread between them, staining them both.
The untouched sneered, muttering.
Untouched 1:
"Pathetic."
But the survivors—the broken ones—stood silent, their eyes burning with grief.
Kaen whispered, voice trembling with fury.
Kaen (whisper):
"Daren… you stubborn fool. You lit a fire none of us can put out."
Above, Verya's eyes narrowed, his cold voice cutting through the silence.
Verya (booming):
"Victory—Daren."
But victory tasted like ash.
The Arena of Silence had claimed its first scar.