The Hollow Grounds - Embers of Triumph, Ashes of Defeat

  Three days had passed. Dax stood rooted before the towering coliseum, its grand structure looming against the horizon. The dry air carried a haze of sand, swirling around him as he advanced toward the entrance. Flanking him were Felix and Syrus, their steps steady as they walked alongside him. From within the arena, a cacophony of screams and roars thundered through the air, mingling with the tremors of distant explosions. The very atmosphere pulsed with rampant energy, an overwhelming aura that seemed to enshroud the coliseum itself.

  As they arrived at the entrance, two familiar figures awaited them—Jiro and Briggs, both eager spectators of Dax’s impending match. Jiro’s expression carried both concern and encouragement. “How are you feeling? Nervous?” he asked, his voice tinged with hope.

  Briggs, on the other hand, grinned and clapped Dax on the back. “Give it your all, Dax! You’ve got this in the bag!”

  Dax smiled at their enthusiasm, glancing over his shoulder to see Felix and Syrus watching silently, their expressions unreadable yet reassuring. Felix playfully punched his arm. “Just pretend it’s like our sparring match... Except this time, don’t hold back. Not even a little.”

  Dax let out a small chuckle, knowing full well what Felix meant. Just then, he felt a firm yet gentle grip on his shoulder. He looked up to meet his brother’s gaze. Syrus’s presence alone was enough to steady him.

  “Remember why you’re stepping into that arena,” Syrus said, his voice calm yet commanding.

  Dax nodded firmly and turned toward the registration counter, where a digital sign flickered the words: For Contestants.

  Behind the counter, a young woman greeted him with an infectious smile. “Welcome to The Hollow Grounds! How may I help you today?” she asked cheerfully.

  Dax pulled up his phone, displaying his registration details. “I’m here for my match.” His voice carried unwavering determination.

  The girl beamed and handed him a ticket with a bold number etched across it. “Go right in and take the lift down to the waiting area. There are rooms where you can rest and train while you wait for your number to be called. Best of luck in The Hollow Grounds."

  Dax took the ticket and turned back toward his group. As he rejoined them, he noticed passersby stealing glances at Syrus, murmuring among themselves. Their hushed voices carried intrigue and awe.

  “I didn’t know The Beasts of Prey were such a big deal here,” Dax remarked.

  Felix chuckled. “Well, your brother kinda made history—ten consecutive wins without stopping.”

  Syrus shook his head with a wry smile. “Hey, guys—today’s Dax’s day, not mine. We can talk about my old matches another time.”

  Jiro and Briggs waved as Dax turned toward the contestants’ entrance. Felix, however, couldn’t resist calling out, “Don’t forget! Your brother’s reputation is at stake! And The Beasts of Prey’s image too!”

  Syrus responded swiftly, landing a sharp smack to the back of Felix’s head. Felix staggered, rubbing his scalp in regret. “I told you to stop talking about that,” Syrus muttered before turning to Dax with an encouraging grin. “Break a leg.”

  With that, he grabbed Felix by the collar and dragged him toward the audience entrance. Jiro and Briggs stood there, still processing what had just happened.

  Dax stepped into the elevator, pressing the button as the doors slid shut. The lift descended slowly, the noise of the outside world fading. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. His fist clenched as memories resurfaced—the night he was fused with that accursed blade. He recalled the entity’s shadow, the oppressive aura it exuded. The unanswered questions burned in his mind. But he had no choice but to move forward.

  As the doors parted, he was met with a room filled with Revenants. Warriors of all kinds, each carrying their own story, their own battles. Conversations hushed as Dax stepped forward. The weight of his presence pressed upon the room, his aura flaring instinctively. Eyes turned toward him, whispers slithering through the air.

  “I heard he’s Syrus’s brother... No wonder his aura feels so strong.”

  Dax exhaled slowly, reigning in his energy. He felt the shift in the air as many began to avert their gaze, stepping away cautiously. Then, amidst the silence, a voice rang out.

  “Now that’s what this place needs! A real killer! A worthy opponent!”

  Dax turned, his gaze locking onto a figure clad in sleek reddish-bronze armor. A black cape billowed behind him, and the man’s piercing eyes gleamed with malice. He approached with slow, deliberate steps, the smirk on his lips widening as his aura erupted—pressure and wind surging like a storm.

  Unfazed, Dax met his gaze. Their auras clashed for a fleeting moment before the tension settled between them, thick as steel.

  The man extended a hand. “Name’s Korvus. Six wins in The Hollow Grounds. More than anyone here.” His grin sharpened. “Would you like to be number seven?”

  Dax eyed the offered hand before smirking. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you... but I won’t lie. I’m Dax, and I’m here for my first win. Would you like to be the first opponent I eliminate?”

  Korvus’s jaw tightened, his aura spiking with murderous intent. He clenched his fists, voice dripping with venom. “I’m going to paint the arena floor with your blood and parade your head around.”

  Without hesitation, he stormed toward an official, grabbing them by the collar and lifting them effortlessly off the ground. “I want him as my opponent. Now.”

  The official whimpered, eyes wide with terror. “O-Okay! I-I’ll set up a match between the two of you! Please don’t hurt me!”

  The trembling staff scrambled to relay the request. Within moments, an announcement echoed through the room.

  “Contestant H-287, Korvus, and Contestant K-444, Dax. Please proceed to Gate 1 and Gate 3 respectively.”

  Korvus smirked. “Now that’s a good dog.” He turned to Dax one last time before slamming the official to the ground. Without warning, he stomped down, crushing the man’s skull into a grotesque pulp. Blood and brain matter splattered across the floor and onto his armor. The room fell into stunned silence.

  Korvus turned, his brown hair now streaked with crimson. “He’d consider himself lucky if he knew what I’m about to do to you.” With that, he walked away, leaving behind only the echoes of his boots against the cold floor.

  Dax approached the fallen official, kneeling beside the lifeless body. He reached out, his fingers grazing the man’s frigid hand. The other staff members looked on, grief-stricken.

  “What was his name?” Dax asked, his voice steady.

  The staff hesitated before one of them answered, tears brimming in their eyes. “Garnt… His name was Garnt.”

  Dax bowed his head, releasing the man’s hand. “Don’t worry, Mr. Garnt… I’ll send him your way soon enough.”

  As the mess was cleaned behind him, Dax strode toward the designated gate. Each step echoed through the dark corridor, the crowd’s roars growing louder. His match was about to begin.

  Syrus and the others sat in the front rows, watching as the previous match came to a brutal end. Briggs muttered in disbelief, "I see why they call this place The Hollow Grounds. These guys are really out for blood... No mercy at all."

  A digital bell rang, echoing across the arena. "For our next tribute to The Hollow Grounds, we have quite a spectacle for you! Presenting a crowd favorite—The Merciless Vulture! Korvus!"

  The stadium erupted in deafening roars as Korvus strutted forward, the gate sliding open before him. Like a seasoned performer, he waved, drinking in the crowd’s adoration. Bloodstains marked his feet—he wiped them nonchalantly on the floor, leaving a crimson trail as he basked in the cheers.

  Across the arena, opposite Syrus and his group, sat a man bearing an uncanny resemblance to Korvus. He was larger, clad in gleaming silver armor, a cape draped over his shoulders—its pattern and hue identical to Korvus’s. Arms crossed, he smirked arrogantly, his gaze locking onto Syrus.

  Syrus yawned. "So that’s Titus’s little brother, huh? They definitely share the same arrogance."

  Jiro and Briggs exchanged puzzled glances. "Who’s Titus?" Briggs asked.

  Felix laughed. "Oh yeah, Titus! Wasn’t he the guy who wanted to fight you here? But you got bored after your tenth win and left before it even started?"

  Syrus nodded. "To be fair, I was just killing time back then. It got dull after a while… Plus, I was needed elsewhere."

  Briggs eyed Korvus and Titus’s matching armor. "So they’re from some kind of guild?"

  "Yeah. The Harbingers," Syrus confirmed. "A guild of mercenaries—killers for hire. They’ve got numbers and some skilled fighters… but nothing we can’t handle if they ever decide to dance."

  Jiro and Briggs shuddered at Syrus’s casual tone. They could tell the Harbinger brothers weren’t weak—if anything, they were formidable. And yet, Syrus spoke as if they were nothing.

  The announcer’s voice rang out, cutting through the noise. "And the challenger, stepping into The Hollow Grounds for the very first time—Dax!"

  Dax’s friends erupted into cheers, rivaling the intensity of the audience. Syrus smirked, taking a slow drag from his cigarette as he watched Dax step forward. "He’s pissed... I pity Korvus. But knowing Dax, Korvus probably deserves what’s coming."

  Dax entered the arena, his gaze locked onto Korvus like a predator sizing up its prey. Korvus, still smirking, tilted his head. "Why the long face, kid? Stunned from earlier? Too late now… I’m going to make you beg for mercy like the good little dog you are!"

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  The crowd roared in approval. But Dax remained eerily still, his stare unwavering. For the briefest moment, Korvus hesitated—he was used to opponents trembling, their fear palpable. But Dax…

  Dax was different.

  "Three! Two! One! Fight!"

  Korvus unleashed his aura, summoning a long red spear. Its blade resembled a jagged drill, the edges twisting menacingly. With a vicious thrust, he lunged. But in an instant—Dax shifted. A slight movement to the left.

  Korvus’s spear struck nothing but air.

  Before Korvus could react, his eyes widened—Dax’s right arm was engulfed in brilliant blue flames, the energy concentrating into his clenched fist.

  Then, an explosion of force. Dax’s punch connected with Korvus’s chest, sending him hurtling across the arena. The impact reverberated through the coliseum.

  Gasps rippled through the crowd. Only two people had managed to track the movement—Syrus and Titus.

  Titus’s smirk faltered. His fist clenched as his gaze flicked to Syrus, who exhaled smoke with a knowing smirk of his own.

  Korvus coughed up blood, panting. He wiped his mouth, glancing toward his brother—Titus remained seated, watching intently. Using his spear for support, Korvus pushed himself up, sneering. "You think that could kill me? What a joke… Let me show you real power!"

  With a violent surge, Korvus’s aura erupted. The ground trembled. Dust scattered as multiple clones of him materialized, each one dashing forward in perfect synchronization.

  Dax barely had time to react. Two clones struck at once, their spears cutting through the air.

  "They’re not weaker… It’s like fighting two of him at once," Dax realized as he blocked the attacks.

  Korvus cackled. "What’s wrong? My clones carry my full power! I’ve multiplied myself!"

  Dax lunged for the original Korvus, but five clones flashed before him. With a fiery punch, he incinerated them in a burst of blue flames. Their burning forms collapsed, but Korvus’s mocking laughter rang out. "Keep trying! You’ll never touch me!"

  More clones lunged from behind. Mid-air, Dax twisted, launching flame projectiles, incinerating them. Yet, more emerged. No matter how many he destroyed, they kept coming.

  Korvus stood atop a throne of his own creations, his smirk widening. "You’re just another corpse waiting to happen. I’ll mount your head on my spear.

  The audience roared in savage delight.

  "Is Dax going to be okay?" Briggs asked, his voice uneasy.

  "That’s too much—even for him!" Jiro added.

  Felix clenched his fists. "Come on, Dax! Show him what you got!"

  Syrus’s smirk faded. His eyes, glowing red, remained fixed on the battlefield.

  Dax fired more flame projectiles, but the fallen clones were instantly replaced. The arena became a warzone of endless destruction and regeneration. Korvus let out a monstrous cry, his clones charging like an unstoppable tide.

  Dax fought fiercely, but the sheer numbers overwhelmed him. Light stabs and slashes started landing. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to move—until suddenly—

  Pain shot through his body.

  Korvus stood behind him, spear driven through Dax’s torso.

  The crowd erupted in ecstasy.

  "No!" Dax’s friends screamed.

  Syrus’s fists clenched. "C’mon… You know you’re itching for a fight," he muttered under his breath.

  Korvus lifted Dax with his spear, laughing maniacally. Blood poured from Dax’s wound. His vision blurred. Consciousness wavered.

  As his sight dimmed, he found himself drifting into an abyss.

  A ghoul-like entity loomed before him. Though eyeless, it watched him. It moved closer, its presence overwhelming.

  And then, the darkness swallowed him whole…

  Dax heard them first—the eerie screams and helpless cries, echoing from the void around him. Each voice grew louder, a deafening cacophony that sent shivers down his spine. His body was frozen, paralyzed in the endless abyss, unable to move, unable to scream. Then, from the darkness, an entity emerged, its formless shadow creeping toward him before surging forward, its hollow eyes locking onto his soul.

  The entity did not stop—it fused with him. Agony unlike anything Dax had ever felt consumed him as his body burned, blue and black flames engulfing his very essence. He floated within the dreamlike darkness, his body writhing in pain as the abyss swallowed him whole.

  Then, as suddenly as it began, it ended.

  Dax's eyes snapped open, and the first thing he felt was cold steel impaling his flesh. His body still hung on Korvus's spear. But something was different. His mind no longer clouded by pain, his heart no longer weighed down by fear. His aura erupted from his body, a massive explosion of dark blue flames that engulfed the entire arena in an infernal storm. The ground trembled beneath him as shockwaves sent debris flying in every direction. Spectators shielded their eyes, gasping in awe and terror as the arena was swallowed in the chaos of his awakening.

  From the stands, Syrus grinned, both in excitement and bewilderment. “Finally,” he muttered under his breath.

  As the dust settled, Korvus emerged from behind a smoldering wall of charred clones, his body burned from the sheer force of Dax's explosion. His flesh bore the marks of suffering, scorched from the relentless flames. He looked up at Dax, his breath shallow, his confidence faltering. What stood before him was no mere opponent. It was death incarnate.

  Dax's stare bore into him, cold and unrelenting. The sheer weight of his presence sent a chill down Korvus’s spine. But the vulture of the battlefield refused to show fear. He scowled, raising his spear, summoning more clones to his side.

  “You think you scare me, you little shit?!” Korvus spat, his voice laced with desperation. “I’m going to kill you! I’m Korvus! The Merciless Vulture!”

  Dax remained still, his expression unmoved. Then, in a slow, deliberate motion, he revealed his weapon—the very blade that had been bound to his soul that fateful night. The key to his past, the key to his parents' demise. A katana, forged in darkness, its edge sharp enough to slice through diamonds with ease. Its collar was adorned with the image of a grinning skull, the guard blackened like charred metal. Flames, the same deep blue that enveloped Dax, licked the blade hungrily.

  The crowd murmured in awe. Titus, watching from the sidelines, took a step back, his face pale. Jiro gawked. “That’s insane! So that’s the sword he was talking about!”

  “Yeah, that must be it!” Briggs added, his voice shaking.

  Felix swallowed hard, his mouth agape. “That’s the aura I felt that day... But this time, it’s even deadlier.”

  Syrus leaned forward, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, I don’t know about you guys,” he said, “but my money is on Dax.”

  The three turned to him, confused by his nonchalant attitude.

  “Dax turned a battle between warriors into a hunt,” Syrus explained. “Korvus isn't fighting an opponent anymore. He's being stalked by a predator. That katana... It carries an ungodly amount of power. This match is already over.”

  Korvus watched as Dax stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate, each step leaving trails of fire in his wake. The vulture gritted his teeth, forcing himself to remain composed. But deep inside, he knew the truth. He was prey now.

  “Damn you!” Korvus roared, calling forth his clones in desperation. They surged forward, attacking from all sides.

  Dax moved like a phantom, his blade slicing through the clones in an instant. His movements were fluid, effortless. Blue flames devoured each illusion upon contact, reducing them to nothingness. Korvus’s eyes widened as he struggled to keep up. He summoned more. It made no difference. Dax’s blade cleaved through them all in a single vertical slash.

  A flicker of silver. A gust of wind.

  And suddenly, Korvus saw it—his own arm, severed, tumbling to the ground. His spear clattered beside it. A delayed scream ripped from his throat as searing pain shot through his body. Blood spilled from his shoulder, staining the sand below.

  Dax stood beside him, his gaze cold. Korvus dropped to his knees, his hand clutching the wound, his breaths ragged and uneven.

  “O-okay,” he gasped. “Okay! You win! Please stop!”

  Dax chuckled, a smirk forming on his lips. “There are no bargains with death.”

  Korvus looked up—and saw nothing but an overwhelming darkness. An aura of sheer despair enveloped Dax, suffocating, inescapable.

  A single thrust. The katana impaled Korvus’s back, pinning him to the ground. The vulture howled as flames consumed him from the inside out. His flesh charred, his cries fading into agony. Black smoke seeped from his body as the fire ate away at him.

  Dax leaned down, his voice a whisper of finality. “Mr. Garnt will have what’s left of you.”

  A stomp. A sickening crunch. The fight was over.

  The crowd erupted in chaos, their cheers shaking the arena. Jiro, despite his relief, felt unease settle in his chest. “I know we should be happy, but... something about this doesn’t feel right.”

  Syrus placed a hand on his shoulder, flashing a reassuring grin. “That’s why I’m here,” he said. “Don’t worry, Jiro. I’ll be watching him.”

  But just as Dax lifted his head, a blood-curdling scream pierced the air.

  “You’ll die for killing my brother!”

  Titus, mid-air, his halberd raised, prepared to strike.

  Before Dax could react, a gust of wind tore past him. Black smoke followed.

  Syrus.

  His blade met Titus before the attack could land, slicing through his chest in a single, fluid motion. Smoke coiled from Syrus’s weapon as he stepped forward, an amused smirk dancing on his lips.

  “Tsk, tsk,” he mocked. “Hate the game, not the player.”

  Titus gasped for breath, coughing blood. “There are no rules stopping me from—”

  Syrus tilted his head. “Exactly. No rules stopping me from killing you either.”

  Titus thrashed violently against the suffocating grip of Syrus’s black smoke, his body trembling as he fought against the inescapable force constricting him. His breath came in ragged gasps, desperation painted across his bloodied face. But Syrus only chuckled, shaking his head with a wolfish grin.

  “Tsk tsk... Time to keep your little brother some company.”

  Without even glancing back, Syrus turned away. The black smoke, once swirling and shifting like living shadows, suddenly ignited into a roaring inferno. Titus’s agonized scream was swallowed by the explosion of black and crimson flames, his body disintegrating into ash in an instant. The Hollow Grounds fell into stunned silence.

  The tension was thick, the smell of burning flesh still lingering in the air when Syrus turned his gaze toward the crowd. His eyes gleamed with unrestrained amusement as he took a step forward, his aura still pulsing like a living storm.

  “And that goes for all of you,” he declared, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Whoever wants to fight—I'll gladly take them on, right here, right now!”

  The crowd erupted, some in sheer exhilaration, others shifting uneasily at the overwhelming presence Syrus exuded.

  Syrus, unfazed by the mix of cheers and murmurs, made his way toward Dax, his smirk widening as he clapped a hand on his shoulder. “So, champ! How are you feeling?”

  Dax exhaled deeply, finally catching his breath as the burning storm of his aura settled around him. His body still tingled with lingering power, his limbs feeling weightless yet grounded. “Great…” he admitted, rolling his shoulders. “But I think I need a little debriefing before anything else… That was weird.”

  Syrus barked out a laugh and jabbed a finger at Dax’s chest. “Talk about weird—your wound is already healed up! Guess our flames work pretty similarly.”

  Dax glanced down, surprised to see that the gaping hole from Korvus’s spear was completely gone. No scar, no trace of the damage. He clenched his fist, his expression unreadable before nodding. “Yeah… looks like it.”

  Around them, the energy in the Hollow Grounds soared once again. The crowd, shaking off the weight of the brutal spectacle, began chanting both their names in wild exhilaration. Their voices thundered through the arena, shaking the very ground beneath them.

  The announcer’s voice boomed through the air, riding the wave of excitement. “Is this fight incredible or what?! Not only did we witness an epic battle from the debuting Dax, but also the triumphant return of the fan-favorite Syrus! And now, it goes without saying… your winner for this match… DAX!!!”

  The crowd exploded into cheers, fists pumping in the air as the ground trembled beneath the sheer force of their voices.

  Syrus grinned, taking Dax’s wrist and raising his arm high into the air like a champion claiming his throne. The crowd roared, their praises echoing through the Hollow Grounds like a war cry.

  Dax stood in the center of it all, absorbing the weight of his victory, the deafening chants of his name, and the lingering embers of power still flickering within him.

  The Hollow Grounds was just the first step into the cruel world awaiting him.

  What lay ahead for this Revenant was still uncertain… but one thing was clear—

  This was only the beginning.