The old man crossed his arms, lifting an eyebrow as he looked me up and down.

  “What if I hurt him?” I asked, ignoring Oren’s doubtful gaze. My face flushed when they both laughed.

  “I’m sure that’s exactly what Oren was thinking about you.” Lord Caelan chuckled, almost slapping Oren’s back again before awkwardly dropping his hand to his side. “Ah, I almost forgot!” He said, reaching for something in his coat. “Your prize.”

  “Prize?” I asked, eyes narrowing as he held out an odd-looking vial, filled with some silvery substance that looked too gritty to be liquid, but not quite solid either.

  “Yes, for beating that Marakh fellow, there was a prize for the qualifying round. Typically, the winner gets to choose. Since you decided to take a…repose in the middle of the arena, we had to choose for you.”

  “What is it?” I asked, weary of the odd substance.

  “A gene enhancement for your lungs, it should help significantly in the tournament, since you seem to enjoy running so much.” He smiled wryly.

  “Oh, I get it!” The seed laughed, practically shouting in my skull. “Because you ran the whole match!” I held in a breath, annoyed at the seed’s appreciation for Caelan’s stupid joke.

  “I’ll need to inject it now.” He said, pushing the vial into some device. It hissed as he twisted it in place. “It’ll take at least a day for the nanites to do their work.”

  “Nan—” I breathed, taking a step back as I remembered the horrible sensation from the doctor’s injection.

  “Well don’t be ungrateful about it,” He scoffed, noticing my apprehension. My eyes darted to the window as he took a step towards me. “I could have just as easily sold this.”

  “Don’t run, we need that!” I could feel the little traitor’s excitement swirling in me as he swooned over the vial.

  “I don’t want—” My protest was cut short by a sharp pain in my neck. I whipped around, a stunned expression on my face as he drew his hand away, casually slipping the device back into his coat.

  “H-how,” I stammered, recoiling from him as I raised a hand to where he’d injected me.

  No nonono, I thought, squirming as I felt the foreign mass spreading inside me. I shivered, clutching my chest as it alternated between hot and cold, finally breathing my relief as the alien tingles subsided near my lungs.

  “I just waited for you to blink.” He shrugged, speaking over his shoulder as he strolled toward the door. “Don’t worry, it won’t interfere with today’s practice. Oren here will escort you.”

  How is he so fast, was the only thought I could manage, my mouth hanging as the door whizzed shut behind him. Oren finally spoke, shaking me back to the present. His voice had none of the gruffness I’d expected. Instead, he spoke with a sort of lilt that made me wonder where he was from.

  “I’ll give ye thir’ty seconds to be dressed an’ standin’ outside this door,” he said, turning to leave.

  “Dressed into what?” I shouted after him, searching the room for anything that looked like clothing. He sighed, wrapping his knuckles on the tall wooden dresser to the right of the door. “Your clothes are in ‘ere.”

  “Well don’t just stand there,” the seed taunted.

  “Shut up,” I spat, pacing toward the dresser. “I don’t want to hear a word from you…you traitor,” I said through clenched teeth as I yanked open several drawers. I panicked when none of them contained anything like what I’d worn in the arena.

  “Try the bottom one,” he offered, as if weren’t the only drawer I hadn’t tried yet.

  Not speaking to you, I said in my mind, rolling my eyes as I opened it. I was relieved to find my dress there, along with the boots I’d worn. I ripped off the silk shirt, throwing the dress over my shoulders before frantically tugging the boots over my feet. How much time had passed, I wondered as I knelt to lace the boots.

  “Ten seconds,” Oren shouted through the door, as if in answer.

  “Stop being a baby,” the seed twitted, giving me the sudden urge to break something as I fumbled with the laces.

  “Five sec-,” he started to shout. He stopped when the door whizzed open, eyeing me as I stepped into the hallway, still ironing out my dress.

  “A dress?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. I nodded, starting to feel silly as I examined Oren’s armor. “Figures,” he said, offering a sympathetic smile. “He’s a cheap little bastard.”

  “Not worried he might hear you?” I snorted, unable to keep the amusement from my voice.

  “Countin’ on it, actually.” He gestured down the hall, “come on then, let’s see if we can’t get you past the second round.”

  Not five minutes later I was on my back, gasping for air as Oren hovered over me, a disapproving look on his face.

  “Lost cause,” Oren muttered. The insult stung, until he slid my hammer to me with his heel. If he really believed that he wouldn’t want to keep going. I rolled onto my knees, panting as my fingers wrapped around the hilt. With a grunt, I finally stood to face him, legs swaying from the effort.

  He didn’t give me a chance to ready myself, lunging instead. I was on the ground again an instant later, his shadow looming over me before I realized what’d happened. He lifted his boot slowly as I squirmed on the ground, a warning that he wasn’t going to let me lay around and sulk. I panicked, bending my knees and pushing off the ground from where I laid. I’d completely misjudged my own strength. Instead of sliding backwards over dirt, I cartwheeled off the back of my own head, managing to land on my feet several paces from where his heel slammed down.

  I tried to shake the dizziness away, but before I could react, his palm collided with my chest. The blow drove the air from my lungs, launching me into one of the bushes that lined the makeshift ring. I landed hard on my back, the upper half of my body tangled in its branches until I finally managed to wriggle free.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  My cheeks burned as I glared up at him, more humiliated than angry. He was toying with me; he hadn’t so much as broken a sweat…and all without even using a weapon.

  “I wasn’t ready,” I spat, pulling a twig out of my hair.

  “Nothing ye’ll be facing is going tae wait until yer’ ready.” He folded his arms.

  I stood, angrily dusting off the dirt and stray leaves stuck to my dress.

  “You know what I’ll be facing?” My brow knitted at the fact that he’d referred to it as a thing, not a person.

  “Prick didn’a tell you anything did ‘e?” He shook his head, his expression a mix of pity and disgust.

  “Wow, he really doesn’t like the lord, I wonder if there’s some history there…” The seed mused in my head. I was far too tired to entertain the thought, focusing instead on Oren.

  “No,” I said, pressing him for more. If nothing else, the longer he spoke the longer I’d have to catch my breath.

  “Last round was a qualifier, one they opted tae do because there were too many applicants,” he said, annoyed as he looked up at the afternoon sky, wiping a single bead of sweat from his brow. I cherished the tiny victory, seeing I’d finally made him break a sweat.

  “Ugh. You didn’t make him sweat…the sun did.” The seed jeered, ruining it.

  Shut up, I thought as Oren continued.

  “The real tournament isn’t anything like that. They’ll be hundreds of gladiators in there, all desperate fer the same prize.” I picked at the skin around my nails as I thought about fighting multiple Marakhs. It made me think of the garden, of being ganged up on by Ada and her thugs.

  “Can you please stop DOING THAT?” The seed grumbled in my mind as I noticed a slight sting. I glanced at my hand to see I’d scraped away the cuticle, drawing blood.

  “Do I need to worry about people grouping up against me?” I asked, trying my best not to sound nervous. If Oren could help me survive, I didn’t want him to think I was a lost cause by coming off as weak.

  “No,” he laughed, “no’ against you. They will group up though, especially against some of the S-tier gladiators…that’s if anyone manages tae find each other in there.”

  “In there?” I puzzled, annoyed by how unprepared I was starting to feel. Caelan really hadn’t told me anything…

  “Aye. The tournament takes place in a tower. It sprouts up from the planet’s surface every ten or so years. They’re a maze on the inside. Hard tae find anything. Won’ just be other gladiators ye’ll be fightin’ in there either. She’ll be packed tae the brim wit’ all sorts o’ abominations…genetic monstrosities,” he added, seeing my confusion at the word, “the tower spawns heaps of em tae protect itself, along with a load o’ traps.”

  “It just…grows?” My eyes went wide as I tried to imagine it.

  “Aye. Officially, Naeone knows why, but some think it has tae do with the flowers. According tae the scholars, towers started springin’ up around the same time they did.”

  “The flowers weren’t always here?” I asked, mouth gaping as a thousand questions rushed into my mind.

  “Nae, but for the sake o’ time, and yer survival, ye should focus on questions that’ll help ye win the tournament.” He said, looking like he was ready to begin sparing again as he paced back to his starting position.

  “I agree. Let me worry about the tower.”

  I decided the seed was right, shifting my mind back to sparing and the games.

  “How many gladiators do I have to kill to win?” I asked, as I circled him. He stood frozen at the center of the ring, not bothering to turn as I rounded his vision. I lunged, growling in frustration when he turned to the side, lightly shoving my back and sending me stumbling past him.

  “None.” he said, confusing me even more. “The goal is tae make it tae the top and destroy the core. Course, that won’t stop them from tryin’ te kill you. The prize’ll make certain o’ that.”

  “How? Why doesn’t everyone just team up against the monsters?”

  “Tha’s easy. Greed. There’s only one core, and one prize fer the gladiator that breaks it. It’s fairly common for gladiators tae murder folks just tae get there first…or take the shirt off yer back. Anything ye’ find in there is yours tae keep.”

  “So, it’s a race.” I said, drawing a chuckle from Oren as he dodged another swipe.

  “Of a sort, only mair violent. Aside from other gladiators trying to beat ye tae the top, ye still have monsters tae contend with.”

  “What if I’m not the first one to the top? Does everyone else just…die?” I imagined a giant tower collapsing while I was still inside.

  “Everyone still alive when the core is destroyed is free tae leave. It won’t crumble right away, if that’s what yer thinkin’.”

  “Then couldn't I just hide the entire time while someone else breaks the core?” I asked. Oren shook his head, choking out another laugh.

  “Ye’ll be fighting through monsters either way tae get inside, and surviving in there is no easy feat, even the walls’ll be tryin tae murder ye’. Killing monsters is how ye’ll earn gear and upgrades from the system.”

  “The system?”

  “Aye, the one they injected you with. Ye’ll earn prizes for the beasts ye kill. Without those, yer no’ likely tae survive long.”

  I frowned, mind racing as I concentrated on the ground. How long would I have to survive in there…and how would I eat? I imagined myself cooking monster parts over a fire when a more dire concern came to mind.

  “If everything’s trying to kill me, when am I supposed to sleep?”

  “Some o’ the early floors’ll have safe areas. Bases, guarded by sponsors.”

  He looked completely unbothered, stepping into my swing as I tried to catch him off guard. His hand shot out, catching my wrist mid-arc. My eyes widened as his hips twisted, using my own force to throw me over his shoulder. I landed on my back with a grunt as he went on, unphased.

  “That said, ye’ll need tae kill a certain number o’ beasts to earn yer way inside. Outside o’ that there’s drugs tae keep ye awake, or ye can rely on a party. But seeing as they’re mair likely to slit yer throat while ye sleep, I’d advise against that.”

  I pushed myself to my feet, eyes tracing the lines in Oren’s armor. I couldn’t help but wonder if these sponsors wore the same.

  “Why don’t these sponsors just clear the tower themselves?” I asked, hefting my hammer off the ground.

  “An’ why would they dae that?” He asked, biting off a laugh. “Cheaper tae fool desperate folks like you into doin’ it for them.”

  My face burned at the insult, and this time, he lunged first, arm coiled to strike. Without time to dodge, I bent over it, trying to soften the blow to my core. Using the same motion, I thrust the shaft of my hammer sideways into his face. My mouth fell open in surprise when it actually connected, sending him stumbling back.

  “It’s not like I asked for this.” I said, bracing for him to charge me again.

  The seed cheered inside my head. I blinked when I thought I heard clapping. Did the seed have…arms in there?

  “Aye, yer no fool.” Oren said, spitting away some blood as he nursed his jaw.

  Like an idiot, I smiled at his praise, dropping my guard just long enough for him to sweep my legs and send me tumbling sideways into the dirt. Anticipating his heel, I rolled to the side, drawing on all my strength to hurl my hammer from where I laid. It sailed past his head, missing him completely.

  “But ye’ are desperate.” He finished, as my hammer smashed through one of the planters behind him. He raised his boot over my head. Flinching, I waited to feel the hard leather sole smash into my face. I opened my eyes a moment later to see his boot still hovering there. He laughed, pulling it back before moving toward the center of our makeshift ring.

  “What was that supposed to teach me?” I snapped, dusting myself off for the third...or was it the fourth time...

  “Fifth, actually, but who’s counting?” The seed jeered, unhelpfully.

  “Tha’ it’s not over til’ it's over.” Oren chuckled, “I’ve seen plenty o’ eejits die cuz’ they thought it’d be a great idea to monologue for the crowd.” He smiled as if recounting something from experience. “The worst pricks...the ones that like to make a show of it...they’ll always give ye’ an opportunity for one last strike. Make that one count.”

  I nodded, thinking about Cedric. If he hadn’t decided to drag out my death I wouldn't be here. A loud thud shook me from my thoughts. I glanced over to see two guards panting over a massive crate.

  “Thank ye' boys.” Oren said, returning their salutes as he moved to the container. They rushed off, drenched in sweat. I chuckled, realizing they were probably weary of being assigned another task. “I ken tha’s enough of a warmup.” Oren kicked the lid open before reaching inside.

  “Warmup??” I asked, staring in disbelief as he pulled out several rings that looked suspiciously like shackles, only without any chains. I stared with a mix of puzzlement and unease as he heaved four of the strange shackles to land near my feet. My mouth gaped when each of them thudded harder than his last stomp, kicking up dust where they fell.

  “Put those on.”