Chapter 58 ‒ Enter the Arena
Chapter 58 ‒ Enter the Arena
The announcer’s voice rang out across the coliseum, his booming tone cutting through the morning air. “Ladies and gentlemen! Warriors and watchers! The grand tournament begins soon! Participants, please register immediately!”
The crowd erupted into deafening cheers as Tyler looked around. Dustville’s Arena was a sprawling coliseum, an ancient half-oval of sand and stone, lined with towering stands that wrapped around like jaws ready to swallow whatever battle was set within its pit. The battleground was circular, with old, pockmarked stones scarred from years of conflict. Splintered weapons and dried blood hinted at the brutal legacy of the ring. Dozens of vendors hollered for attention, hawking everything from spiced meat skewers to mugs of foaming brew. Somewhere near the pit entrance, a rat hybrid hustled about, collecting coins and handing out betting slips, his eyes gleaming with gold-lust.
Tyler stood near the edge, watching it all unfold. Farnak, beside him, rubbed his chin thoughtfully and glanced toward the betting vendor.
Tyler turned back to the arena. Without another word, he walked straight toward the announcer’s table.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Farnak called, jogging after him. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m going to participate in the tournament.”
Farnak blinked. “What? Why?”
Tyler handed him a pouch of gold. “And, I want you to bet on me.”
Farnak argued, “I do not understand. Earlier you had said, that we aren’t here for betting. And now you suddenly decide to participate in the tournament, and ask me to bet on you? You did not even tell me what happened in the manager’s office. Is it perhaps related to that?”
Tyler looked at him with an assured look and replied calmly, “Just do what I told you. Whatever the returns are, you get to keep one-fifth- no, a quarter of it.”
Farnak blinked in disbelief, looking down at the heavy pouch. “Seriously?”
Tyler didn’t answer. He was already turning back toward the registration table.
He approached the announcer’s desk, where other participants were milling around.
“Ah, Mr. [Player],” the announcer greeted, skimming his register. “Manager Wane mentioned you. Just so you know, no special treatment here. And we do not take responsibility for injury or death.”
“I’m not asking for any special treatment either,” Tyler replied coolly.
“Then draw from the lot.”
Tyler reached into a bronze urn and pulled out a coin etched with the number 21. The announcer scribbled it down.
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“You’ll be in match number 21. Rest until then and wait for your name to be announced.”
Tyler nodded and stepped back. He returned to the stands, choosing a seat with a clear view of the board. A giant crystal display shimmered to life above the arena, revealing all 64 matchups for the first round. Each name was carefully etched beside a number, reflecting the draw order. He spotted his name beside a new one: Ralgar Hoofgnash.
Tyler scanned the pit floor, locking eyes with a horse-goat hybrid who wielded a gleaming lance. Ralgar stood calmly, his eyes narrow, as if assessing Tyler just the same.
Tyler narrowed his eyes.
Level 78. Lower than me… but his stance—he knows what he’s doing. He’s fast. Precise.
He turned his gaze back to the board. The other matches were a mix of veterans and fodder. Some names flickered out already—disqualified or withdrawn, no doubt due to fear or injury. One poor soul burst into tears after drawing match 64. His opponent: Kragg the Fallen. Tyler watched the lion hybrid tremble as he was led away.
This is wrong. This whole spectacle. How many of these people were forced into this? How many more will die?
He gripped the hilt of his sword.
This isn’t just about Kelmo’s father anymore. If I can do something—anything—to stop this cruelty, then I must.
I failed Milo. I let my instincts hurt him. I used power carelessly. But here… here, I’ll do it right. If saving even a handful eases that guilt… then it’s worth it.
Fights unfolded below him. Some clumsy and one-sided. Others vicious and desperate. A few fighters showed skill, one even wielding a third dagger with his tail. Tyler raised an eyebrow and whispered, “Not for me.”
The announcer’s voice boomed again. “Match twenty-one! [Player] vs. Ralgar Hoofgnash! Fighters, to the arena!”
Tyler stood, exhaling slowly, and stepped into the scorching sunlight. The crowd’s noise faded into a dull thrum as he focused. His boots crunched against the gritty sand. Across the ring, Ralgar raised his lance, his goat-like eyes narrowing in silent challenge.
Stay calm. Watch his feet. Don’t get baited.
“Three… Two… One…”
“Begin!”
Ralgar lunged immediately, his lance striking forward like a whip. Tyler twisted away, barely dodging the blow. The spearhead nicked his shoulder.
Fast.
Ralgar spun his lance, creating a circular defence as he repositioned. He struck again, aiming for Tyler’s thigh. Tyler parried with his sword but felt the vibration rattle through his arm. Ralgar stepped back with practiced grace, keeping the distance.
Tyler lunged in—but Ralgar anticipated it. He twirled the lance horizontally, swiping across Tyler’s torso. Tyler jumped back but not fast enough. Another hit. More HP gone.
He’s controlling the space. He’s using that reach well.
He grimaced.
If I keep dancing around him, I’ll lose this fight by attrition. I have to close in.
Tyler ducked under another jab and rolled forward, dashing in close.
But instead of retreating, Ralgar snapped his hoof forward, landing a devastating kick into Tyler’s gut.
“Gah!” Tyler flew backward, landing hard near the edge of the ring. Pain flared in his ribs.
He wheezed and glanced around. Had he just lost?
The announcer declared, “The match continues until one combatant yields or dies! There is no ring-out!”
Ralgar scoffed. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight.”
Tyler coughed and staggered up. “You’ll get your fight.”
Ralgar levelled his lance again. “Then stop holding back.”
Tyler brushed blood from his lip, his eyes burning.
I said I’d do this right. I said I wouldn’t let anyone fall because of my inaction.
No more hesitation.
He took a deep breath and shouted—
“Berserk!”
The air thickened as crimson energy flared around him. The crowd roared. Ralgar’s eyes widened.
Tyler dashed forward, his speed and power magnified. The next phase of the battle had begun.