[Draka Capital – The Road to the Arena]
I stepped out of "Brin's Tavern" into a city wrapped in a silence that felt like the calm before the storm. I stopped a passerby—a man who reeked of poverty and fear. I didn't need many words; my massive frame and the shadow that engulfed his path were enough to make him point a trembling hand toward the north.
"There... the Great Arena... where gold and blood flow as one," he stammered before fleeing in terror.
I headed in that direction. The arena wasn't just a stone structure; it was a colossal pit surrounded by thousands of people, their roars and cheers filling the horizon until the very ground vibrated beneath my feet. I carved my way through the crowded stands until I reached a vantage point.
High above were the gilded royal boxes. Behind the luxurious glass, I saw the children of the nobility. Their faces did not bear the revolting lizard-like scales I had seen on the guards; they looked hauntingly human, with smooth, cold features and eyes that watched the death below as if it were a tedious theatrical performance.
[The Combat Pit]
The referee stood in the center of the stained sand and raised his hand for silence. "No laws! No stopping! The fight ends only when a lifeless corpse remains on this ground!"
The arena exploded in cheers as Brock entered. He was a mountain of muscle and massive rocky scales, pounding his chest with his fists and roaring like a starved beast. The crowd saw him as the invincible hero, the "Mountain Breaker."
Then, a sudden, cold silence fell. From the opposite side, a figure dressed entirely in black entered. He was lean, moving with a strange lightness that left no sound on the ground. A black cloth covered half his face to hide his identity, while a sword and a long knife hung from his waist.
No one cheered for him. He didn't wave to the crowd. He was merely a still shadow waiting for the signal.
"Begin!"
Brock charged like a raging bull, shattering the ground beneath him with brute strikes, but the Sura Guard vanished before him like smoke. The speed was terrifying; every time Brock thought he had crushed his opponent, he found himself hitting air, while the Sura Guard left a small, precise wound on Brock's body.
The fight lasted for minutes, the rhythm escalating until the decisive moment. Brock let out a roar and tried to seize his foe, but in the blink of an eye, the sword's blade flashed under the Draka moon.
"CHAAAK!"
Brock's right hand fell to the ground, still clutching and unclenching against its owner's will. Brock fell to his knees, screaming in a pain that tore through the arena's silence.
But the Sura Guard did not stop. He didn't possess a shred of mercy. He leaped onto Brock's massive body like a raven picking at a carcass and began to stab and stab with calculated madness. The long knife pierced through flesh and scales, tearing the body and crushing the bones.
The scene transformed into a public flaying. Brock's screams gradually faded, replaced by a haunting silence in the stands, broken only by the sound of consecutive stabs tearing through what remained of a lifeless corpse.
The fight ended. The Sura Guard stood, wiped his blade coldly on the dead man's clothes, and exited the arena in total calm, leaving behind a funeral silence.
Six giant men were forced to enter to retrieve what was left of Brock, who had turned from a hero of the masses into a heap of shredded meat.
I watched his exit and felt that strange energy emanating from these fighters. I adjusted my black scarf and whispered to myself as curiosity began to seep into my depths:
"It seems there are interesting human monsters in this world...".
[Draka Capital – The Blind Eye Tavern]
Hours after the Flaying Festival and Brock's tragic death, the city was still buzzing with talk of the Sura Guard's speed. I entered "The Blind Eye," a tavern reeking of cheap wine and mercenary sweat. I headed straight for the large wooden board hanging in the corner: The Hunting Board.
The tattered papers bore varying numbers: (5 coins for killing field wolves), (10 coins for recovering stolen goods)... and at the top, a single paper the color of dried blood with bold writing: "Stone Ghouls – Forest of Bones – 100 Gold Coins."
I approached the table where a girl with red hair and a sharp gaze sat recording names in a massive ledger. "I want this one," I said, pointing to the red paper.
The girl lifted her head, looked at my physique, and then erupted into a mocking laugh that shook the tavern. "You? Have you seen yourself in a mirror? This mission requires an entire battalion of elite knights, and even they return at half their number. Go hunt some rats in the sewers for 5 coins; it'll be safer for your neck."
I didn't freeze my features; instead, I simply looked into her eyes with a coldness that made her laughter gradually fade. I pulled the paper away slowly and said, "I'll be back before dawn. Have the gold ready."
[The Forest of Bones – Midnight]
The forest was desolate, the trees intertwining like the fingers of the dead trying to grasp the sky. I didn't need to use my "Eyes"; I wanted to test my raw body in this world. The Stone Ghoul appeared suddenly—a massive heap of stone and solid flesh, its roar sending birds fleeing from their nests.
It rushed at me, trying to crush me with a fist like a giant boulder. I evaded the strike by millimeters, feeling the air pressure brush my face. In a swift motion, I exploited its momentum and leaped onto its back, plunging my small dagger into the soft spot behind its neck. It didn't die immediately; it began to thrash wildly, but I was like its shadow, never leaving it until its movement stilled and it fell as a lifeless corpse that shook the earth.
[The Tavern – Two Hours Later]
The tavern door burst open. I entered, dragging the massive corpse of the Stone Ghoul behind me, blue blood tracing a line on the floor. A funeral silence fell; cups froze in mid-air, and pupils dilated in unprecedented shock.
I reached the table and threw the Ghoul's head in front of the girl, whose pen fell from her hand as she gaped in awe. "The... the 100 coins..." she stammered, trembling.
She pulled out a large leather pouch and began placing gold pieces in, one after the other. The "clink... clink" of the gold was the only sound audible in the tavern. I felt dozens of eyes piercing my back—greed, fear, and envy... all directed at me.
[The Night Market – Back Alley]
I left the tavern, the money weighing heavy on my hip. The city had fallen asleep except for one small market in a dark corner. I approached an old man selling ancient weapons. "I need a blade."
The old man looked at the gold pouches, then pulled out a long blade—somewhat ancient with a light layer of rust, but its weight was perfect. "3 coins," the old man said. I paid him and took the sword; it wasn't a legendary blade, but in my hands, it would become a tool of death.
[The Inn – Room Number 9]
I arrived at the "Lumin" inn. I gave the innkeeper 5 gold coins for the night; I saw the glint of greed in his eyes as he watched the massive gold pouch. I went up to my room, but I did not sleep.
The floorboards groaned under my weight. I placed the gold pouch—which the Stone Ghoul had paid for with its life—on the worn wooden table intentionally, making it visible to any eye watching through the door cracks. I stretched out on the bed, but my hand never left the hilt of the ancient blade I had just bought.
An hour passed... then two. A heavy silence prevailed, broken only by the sound of rain beginning to lash against the windows. Suddenly, I heard a slight movement—not from the door, but from the window.
The lock was skillfully picked, and a long shadow entered, moving like a snake. It didn't wait; it lunged toward the bed and plunged its dagger into where my chest was supposed to be. But it didn't feel the pierce of flesh; instead, it felt the shock of the blade hitting wood.
I was right behind him.
Before he could turn, my massive hand had encircled his neck like an iron trap. I lifted him off the ground until his feet began to kick desperately in the air. He tried to stab me with his other dagger, but I twisted his wrist coldly until I heard the sound of bone snapping, the dagger falling limply to the floor.
"W-Who sent you?" I asked in a low, terrifying voice, my fingers slowly tightening on his throat.
His face began to turn blue, and he muttered unintelligible words. I loosened my grip slightly so he could speak. "We... we're just mercenaries... the innkeeper told us about the gold... we wanted the money and to kill you... please..." he said, shaking uncontrollably.
"Where is your headquarters?" "We don't have an official one... but we have a small center... in the Third District... behind the old mills."
I smiled. This was my ticket into the city's underworld.
[The Third District – After Midnight]
We arrived at an abandoned building surrounded by fog. I stopped and looked at the mercenary, who was holding his broken hand and trembling with terror and cold. I pulled 20 gold pieces from my pouch and threw them before him.
His eyes widened in shock. "W-What is this?" I said to him in a tone that brooked no argument: "Go in and tell them you captured me after a fierce fight, and that you recovered the gold. I will pretend to be unconscious, and you and your gang will carry me inside. If you betray me... I will be the last thing you see before you leave this world."
He nodded his head frantically, the gold in his hand making him forget the pain of his fracture. I lay on the ground, covered my face with my scarf, and feigned unconsciousness.
The mercenary went out and called out loudly. After minutes, I heard the sound of heavy footsteps. Seven men emerged, surrounding me as they laughed. "Is this the beast that hunted the Ghoul? He looks like a lifeless corpse now!" one said, kicking me lightly in the side.
They carried me as if I were a sack of flour and took me into the cellar.
[Inside the Headquarters – Wooden Arena]
They threw me onto a wooden platform in the center of the room. The smell here was a mixture of rust and dried blood. I remained still, watching from beneath partially closed eyelids.
I heard the sound of steady footsteps—not like the footsteps of the rabble who had carried me. They were the steps of a confident person wearing fine leather boots. He stopped before me, and silence fell over the place.
"So... this is the person who hunted the Stone Ghoul alone?" a deep, calm voice said, with an air of authority. "He is massive... and unnaturally built."
The mercenary who "captured" me stepped forward and said in a trembling voice, trying to hide his lie: "Yes, sir... I... I defeated him with difficulty, and as you can see, he broke my hand in the fight."
The master approached me; I felt his shadow cover my body. He leaned in slightly, as if examining a sleeping tiger in a cage. Tension gripped everyone, and swords were half-drawn.
He raised his hand, gesturing for his men to step back, and said with a sentence that cut through all doubt: "Don't kill him... he is useful... and we have much work to accomplish with him."
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