Joshua slammed a wooden tray onto the counter, frustration brewing in his chest. "This is useless," he muttered, eyes flicking over the rowdy warriors drowning themselves in ale before their battles.
He and Misery had taken the vacant job spot of a little tavern call Odin's Stowaway
Misery twirled in her black dress, catching glimpses of herself in a tarnished metal plate. "I wish I can see myself" she mused. "Do you think I look good in this?"
Joshua shot her a look of disbelief. "We're on a mission, Misery," he said flatly. Then, after a pause, "But… you do look nice."
Misery beamed. "Finally, someone says it!"
Their moment was cut short by the entrance of Japheth, beside him was a man whom Joshua was briefed about, Yuri Spopovich. He was a small chubby man, who constantly wiped at his sweaty pale face. Japheth's eyes locked onto Joshua's ragged innkeeper uniform and immediately erupted into laughter. "Where'd you get those duds? A scarecrow?"
Joshua clenched his teeth. "I'm working, sir. If you cause trouble, I'll throw you out myself."
"Alright, alright," Japheth chuckled, settling into his seat.
Joshua leaned in as he pretended to take their order. "The tournament starts soon, and we still have nothing. Either someone is sealing lips around here, or these people are truly blind to their own city."
Before Japheth could respond, the air was shattered by the sound of a body crashing against a table.
"Ya little bastard!" A voice bellowed through the inn.
All eyes turned toward the source. A towering brute of a man—thick arms covered in scars, a chest broad like a war horse—had just hurled a child across the floor like a discarded rag. Blood trickled from the boy's lip as he scrambled to his feet, defiance burning in his eyes.
"Damn you, Duke Calzaghe!" the child spat. "You killed my sister, you pig!"
Duke's nostrils flared, his wild eyes burning like a demon's. He wrenched a small knife from his forearm, tossing it aside like an afterthought. "I've killed a lotta people, boy. Don't remember no sister."
"Then I'll carve her name into your bones!" The child lunged, but Duke's massive hand swung down like a hammer.
CRACK!
A sickening impact echoed through the inn—but Duke's attack never landed. Japheth stood between them, his forearm hardened into solid stone, blocking the brute's strike.
Duke recoiled, shaking his numb fist. "What the hell—?!"
Japheth sighed. "Beating on kids? You sure you're a man?"
Duke's face twisted in rage. "I'll kill you."
"Not here, Duke." A new voice cut through the tension like a blade.
Creighton, the undisputed top fighter of Brigaden, stepped forward. His presence alone was enough to silence the room.
"This ends now," he said, voice firm. He turned to the child. "Evelyn, I won't warn you twice. Stand down."
"Evelyn?" Japheth raised a brow. "This kid's a girl?"
Evelyn clenched her fists, jaw tight. But before she could bolt, Misery blocked the exit, her piercing eyes scanning the girl.
"An unfamiliar scent," Misery whispered, stepping closer. "Who are you?"
Evelyn flinched. "Just let me leave."
Joshua spoke gently. "We're not going to hurt you. We just need information."
"You can't be outsiders," Evelyn accused quietly, watching Creighton and Duke leave."The only strangers here are gladiators."
"Well…" Joshua hesitated.
Misery grabbed Evelyn's wrist with an iron grip. "You heard too much," she said with a sly smile. "Guess that makes you our forced tour guide."
---
Aria twisted mid-air, narrowly avoiding the razor-sharp claws of a lycan. A laugh bubbled from her lips as she danced between the monstrous creatures, her fist slicing through fur and flesh with surgical precision.
"What's so damn funny?!" Chris shouted, his flaming arms butchered the beast about them. The flames illuminated the battlefield, revealing dozens—no, hundreds—of lycans surging from the south. Annoyance from the monsters and his partner made his face twisted.
Chris gritted his teeth. "Where are they all coming from?"
Aria landed gracefully, her glowing green eyes scanning the darkness beyond. Then she saw it—waves of the beasts pouring from the southern hills.
"Chris, run north!" she commanded.
"I can't leave you here!" Chris spoke up.
Aria's hands wrapped about his arm and without a word she spun fast and flung Chris in the towards the north. Chris shouts soon disappeared into the night.
Aria looked at the encroaching mass of black fur and snarling fangs getting closer...
---
The Colosseum trembled under the roars of thousands. Japheth clenched his fists as he listened to the crowd chant one name over and over.
"Duke! Duke! Duke!"
"Of course," Japheth muttered in disgust.
"He's the Monstrous Pugilist of Brigaden," Yuri reminded him. "Only Creighton is stronger. If you win, you face him next."
Japheth exhaled sharply. "Perfect."
Across the arena, Duke stepped forward, his muscles flexing unnaturally, veins bulging. He relished in the crowd's admiration.
On the opposite side stood a lone woman, gripping a spear wrapped with a blue cloth.
Booing erupted.
Japheth's eyes flicked up to a balcony. There, bathed in golden sunlight, sat Queen Maryann—an ethereal figure with braided golden hair and piercing grey eyes.
Her voice rang like a bell. "State your names, warriors."
"Phillipa York, my queen," the woman declared.
"Duke Calzaghe," he muttered, unimpressed.
Queen Maryann's gaze sharpened. "Watch your tone, Duke. Now… entertain me."
The battle began.
Phillipa lunged first, spear flashing in an elegant arc. Duke dodged effortlessly, his footwork impossibly light for his massive frame.
Japheth narrowed his eyes. "He's too fast for his size."
Phillipa feinted left, then pivoted for a thrust to his ribs. Duke smirked, weaving past her attack like a phantom. Then, with lightning speed, he drove his fist into her left arm.
CRACK!
Phillipa stumbled back, her arm dangling uselessly. She gritted her teeth.
Duke chuckled. "Aww, I broke your pretty little arm. Guess I'll have to carry you to my bed now."
Phillipa's body trembled—not from fear, but from pure, unfiltered rage.
"Lighting Art... Heaven Piercer!"
Her entire body crackled with electricity, disappearing in an instant.
Gasps erupted.
Then—BOOM!
She reappeared behind Duke, her spear aimed at his heart.
But Duke was already moving.
His massive arm swung—THOOM!—with a swift attack, he struck her three times. Chest, stomach and then the head.
Phillipa gasped, frozen in shock. Blood seeped from her lips.
The crowd fell silent.
Phillipa staggered… and collapsed.
The silence shattered into wild cheers.
"Duke's Three-way flash !" someone roared.
Duke stood over her broken body, licking his lips. "Shame. I would've had fun with you."
But Phillipa wasn't dead.
She forced herself up, eyes burning. "I'd rather die than let you touch me."
Lightning crackled as she took her final stance.
Duke let a sigh escape his lips.
"If that is your wish." He lifted his arms readying an attack.
Phillips screamed as lightning erupted from about her body. With her only good arm, she held the spear tightly and pointed it with defiance at Duke.
"You killed my father." She explained the reason for her anger. "I've been practicing our lightning technique for years, just to see your head at the end of my spear." Dust flew into the air obscuring the vision of many.
"What's going on?" Cried a spectator.
"I can't see anything."
"I'll take your life Duke!" In that instant Phillipa disappeared.
"Your father also tried this technique." Duke sighed. In that moment he lifted his arm right arm and slammed it downward. Phillipa was struck and was hammered into the ground.
Bits of lightning still traveled about, but she was unresponsive.
"A shame." Duke sighed.
Duke Had won the first round.