Ring of Blood [Shane Stern]

Documentation:

Beira walked through the streets of the town, wondering why on earth she had agreed to take this job. The weather wasn't hot, it was scorching. And yet, everyone around seemed not to take notice of the sweltering heat, as they jostled and bustled and called one to another. The place was veritable chaos. The heat, the noise and the large volume of people milling about in one place was getting to her. But she kept a straight face and kept walking. If she was going to be honest with herself, Beira realized that she would probably take another job such as this, if it came her way again. Discomfort was a triviality. What mattered most to her was getting the job done, and the knowledge she hoped to acquire in so doing. She got the occasional stares, but she ignored them and moved on. There would have been a lot more stares if her thick cloak, currently wrapped around her, was absent. Yet, despite the weather, and the apparent lack of sense it made to wear the cloak, it was a very good insulator, which meant it would keep heat out, as well as in. Beira's hope was to find the meeting place before her own body heat began roasting her in the fabric.

And not a moment too soon. The Utgardian saw, emblazoned high on a building, "the Golden Oasis". That was where she was supposed to meet her partner for this mission. It was, so far, the most dangerous she had chosen to undertake so far, and she was a little bit nervous. It was a bit irritating that the client had not told her who had chosen to undertake the mission with herself. But she didn't have much of a problem getting along with others... for the most part. Walking over to the building, she pushed open the door and stepped in. It was a tavern of sorts. The interior of the building was much cooler than outside, which was quite relieving, seeing as she had already begun to sweat heavily underneath her cloak. There were a lot of patrons around, most of them in groups, discussing and laughing over their drinks. She took off her cloak, and the ambient sound in the pub reduced noticeably. Taking no heed, the God Slayer selected an empty table in one of the corners of the building, and sat down with her back to the corner, so she was facing the rest of the tavern's interior. A waiter, dressed in traditional Desiertian scurried over to her table.

"Can-- can I get you anything?" he stammered, trying to prevent himself from getting too distracted. "As long as it's sweet, of considerable quality, and not alcoholic, that would be very nice," she replied. "And I would like three cups with whatever it is. I'm expecting friends." He hurried away, and Beira's eyes scanned the room impassively. Some foppish-looking fellows were whispering to themselves and looking at her. Then one of them rose and began heading towards her, just as someone else, an elderly fellow with fiery eyes and a face lined by the desert rose and moved towards her table as well, pushing past the dandy. The younger man placed a hand roughly on the elder's shoulder, only for the older man to turn and stare pointedly at him. Something unsaid passed between them, and the dandy slunk away, looking defeated. By now the tavern was almost silent, as most eyes watched the drama. The old man drew up close.

"Peace to you. Are you Beira of Utgardr?" he asked, bowing slightly at the waist. "Indeed," the young woman replied, emulating his gesture, though she did not rise. "Are you the one who has business with me?" She was sure the old man wasn't her mission partner, even though he did strike an impressive figure. The man nodded and placed a small parcel on the table. "In there is a single pass to the Ring of Blood, so one of you can use it to get in. The other person must find a way in. Documented therein are also a few other minor details you may wish to know, including a map of the desert, and the way to the Ring." There was a pause. "It is good that you, Beira of Utgardr, came first, because I wish to ask a favor, before your partner arrives. There are three of your countrymen who own the Ring of Blood. I want you to specifically kill one of them, Odric Brey by name. I know the stipulations of this mission simply say you must bring the owners of the Ring to justice, so do whatever you please, but Odric must die, for it was he who, to hit back at me for a business slight he suffered at my hands, arranged for the capture of my nephew. Find the boy, and keep him safe. The trust of an old man is in your hands."

"Why are you--" Beira was unable to finish, as the man suddenly walked away, exiting the bar, just as the waiter came with the drink and the three cups and set them down on Beira's table. She paid him, with a generous tip, and poured a drink for herself. It was a curious purple color, but it tasted every bit as amazing as she had hoped. Mentally making a note to discover what the stuff was made of, the Utgardian silently sipped her drink, as she waited for the arrival of her mission partner, while she wondered why the old client was not keen on telling herself and her partner of the extra mission stipulation.


WC: 946 words
Total: 946/16000

It wasn’t everyday that Shane would accept a job in Desierto, but the particulars of this mission had intrigued him. The Ring of Blood had long been appearing in his network of intel, but the risk to infiltrate the organization had always been too great for him to take the risk. The price of cracking a case in exchange for the lives of his colleagues was not something he would consider, much less think about. However, when it came to his own life, he had a very different take on it. Especially when this opportunity proved to be too tempting. It required the very destruction of the Ring of Blood itself.

Heavily cloaked to keep out the penetrating rays of the high sun and the sweltering heat, Shane was also hooded as he arrived at the Golden Oasis, a bar that had been designated as the rendezvous point for him and his mission partner. He had no info about who would be joining him for the mission, his client having made sure to keep it close to himself. Hence the reason for Shane’s arrival at the bar earlier than the appointed time, a full two hours earlier than even the client as he sat at one of the tables at the very back of the bar.

A glass of cinnamon whiskey was on his table, on the rocks. An acquired taste instead of a personal preference, the cinnamon whiskey reminded Shane of a particular night and particular girl that he hoped he would meet again, but until fate put the two of them in each other’s way, he could do nothing but reminisce through the smaller details.

Beneath the hood, Shane kept his eyes fixed on the newcomers into the bar, taking note of them one by one, as he sifted through them, biding his time until the time for their meet up. And his patience finally paid off. A very notable female mage, a blonde bombshell made her way into the bar, and was approached by an older male with haste. The details of their conversation was clear to him despite the distance between them, but his hearing was much better than the average human’s.

“An assassination side job huh?” Shane whispered beneath his breath as he smirked slightly, watching the man leave the area quickly. He assumed that the client had expected the other mage on the job to brief him about the details. The Rune Knight merely shrugged, and in the process, purposely causing the hood to drop from his head and revealing himself. The man stood up from his seat, gently holding the glass of cinnamon whiskey and then taking one last swig out of the glass, emptying the contents within before putting it back down on the table.

He strode with purpose across the room, drawing the attention of some of the other patrons in the bar before finally arriving in front of the female mage.

“Hi Beira, Shane Stern of the Rune Knights. Most people just call me Shane or Cap,” the Rune Knight said as he offered his right hand out. “I heard everything that I needed to know from way back over there.”

“The way I see it, you should use the pass to get in. I’ll find another way to get into the Ring of Blood. Not gonna be too difficult if what I’ve heard about them is true,” Shane whispered as he inched slightly nearer to her, not wanting others to listen in on their exchange. He had chosen to not speak about the additional part of the job that the client had requested out of Beira. It wasn’t because he planned to stop her, but rather, Shane was actually intending to the utterly purge the Ring of Blood from Desierto. No survivors at all.

[635 words]
[Total WC: 1581/14000]

In the moment of enjoying a particularly satisfying sip of her mystery drink, Beira had closed her eyes, a slight smile on her face. She sensed a form approaching her table; it wasn't the old man, for he had left and gone beyond the reach of her senses. No this one was different, younger, judging by the spry movements of the form that drew near. At the greeting, the young Utgardian opened her eyes, a momentary look of confusion passing across her features, before she remembered that his first word was a greeting, not the adjective of that which had a lofty aspect. Fiorean was a rather funny language, as far as she was concerned. She looked up at the man, a quizzical expression on her face, as she noted that once again, most people in the bar were observing the two strangers.

"Greetings, Shane," she intoned. "I think I shall prefer to call you 'Shane'. I'm not so sure I shall call you 'Cap', for I fail to see the logic behind you bearing the name of a clothing article, one which you presently are not wearing. Do you bear the name because you Rune Knights wear such as part of your uniform?" Yes, he was a Rune Knight, something Beira was sure to take note of. She wasn't a fan of the Rune Knights, although she didn't hate them either. They were just doing their jobs. But then, their jobs were probably what made most of them unable to get their hands proverbially dirty, in order to achieve the furtherance of justice. Most dark mages saw them as puppets of the Magic Council. She saw them as people with jobs to do, like herself, although often times, the objectives of their jobs were at variance with hers. Hopefully, today would not be one such.

Beira could smell alcohol on the man's breath, thanks to her Slayer senses. She liked to avoid alcohol most times, especially when a mission was involved, as she didn't have much faith in her ability to hold her liquor. This fellow called Shane probably did, so she would not berate him over drinking before a mission. His statement about hearing all he needed to hear made her heart skip. That meant he most likely knew about the extra stipulation in the mission. She was poor at lying, but at least the Utgardian was quite capable of keeping her feelings and facial expressions in check. She gestured to the empty seat facing her. "Please, avail yourself of the seat. And do have some of this... this strange drink."

Leaning forward slightly to rest her weight on her elbows, which she had placed on the table, Beira said, looking into Shane's heterochromic eyes, "you must have the auditory prowess of a fox, to have heard my discussion with the old man from back where you sat. And here was I thinking I'd have to wrestle you for rights to use the pass. Pity, that." An enigmatic smile played at the corners of her full lips, before disappearing, as her expression became more serious. "So tell me, my desert fox, as a Rune Knight, are you going to attempt to stop me from killing the man, Odric Brey? I hear he is wanted by your employers, the rulers of Fiore."


WC: 553 words
Total: 2134/16000

The way she spoke surprised Shane slightly as he tried to place her speech patterns, but it was a minor distraction. He grinned when he heard her remark about the reason she gave for her reluctance to call him Cap, finding amusement in it. He had himself to blame after all for not elaborating further, but there was no point in correcting her. This could possible be just a one-time cooperation.

“No need to dwell on that. Calling me Shane will do as well,” the Rune Knight Captain brushed past the previous topic of conversation and was prepared to jump into the juicier part of the mission. He took a seat at her permission, leaning against one of the high chairs but barely sitting. A glass of liquor, a highly extraordinary purple colour that Shane evaluated carefully, bringing the glass up to eye level and trying to peer into the liquid. It was nothing more than just a meaningless attempt to discern the type of alcohol, and without any further ado, Shane took a large gulp, draining the glass instantly.

He could feel a warmth building up in his body, and when the warmth spread to his limbs, he could feel a certain burst of strength coursing through his muscles. It wasn’t so bad after all.

“It might not be comparable to that of a fox’s, but I do have my own ways. I’m still considering it, it would depend on the situation, if this Odric Brey is valuable to the Rune Knights as a source of intel. Other than that, I’m not responsible for his safety or life, so you may do as you see fit,” Shane answered her, knowing that it wasn’t a straight answer but he was against making any promises he couldn’t keep.

In fact, it was true. Until he assessed the man in question, Shane had no way of knowing whether the man was a threat to be silenced or a valuable source of information. Changes come and go, and even more fluidly during a mission as this that’s bound to get violent.

“You will be able to get a direct entry into the Ring of Blood, while I have to work for my entry. So, see you in a bit, Beira,” Shane said as he merely stood up straight. “Thanks for the drink.”

The Rune Knight took his leave from the Golden Oasis and stepped out into the blistering heat and glaring sun, immediately shielding his eyes with his left hand on his forehead as he took a good look around. His sources had gave him a rather good tip on where the slavers for the Ring of Blood usually operated, and as though having a perfect understanding of the town’s layout, Shane confidently walked around the town, sometimes in the larger streets while sometimes in the snaking alleys.

When he was finally at the market district, Shane began to act very suspiciously in a bid to lure out the slavers. He knew that it was difficult to discern them from the crowd, but the Rune Knight kept up his façade. Every once in a while, he would spy a few people tailing him through the crowd but he acted as though he was clueless. He made a ruckus at every stall he went, excessively haggling for prices at certain places while making unreasonable demands at others. He even walked around, sneering on the products being sold.

After having walked through the entire market street, and angering half of the vendors there, Shane turned around into one of the smaller alleys. He could hear the shuffling footsteps of his trackers but he paid no heed to them. For now, he wasn’t here to beat them up. He needed them to beat him up and capture him. As expected, a large basket was suddenly dropped over his head, and wooden sticks began to assault his upper body. Shane gritted his teeth, not for the pain for he had taken worse, but to keep himself from reacting to their attacks. When he felt that he had taken enough of a beating, the Rune Knight feigned unconsciousness and dropped to the ground.

[695 words]
[Total WC: 2829 / 14000]

Whatever the reason for his being referred to as 'Cap', the Rune Knight didn't seem too eager to explain, accepting to be called Shane. In any case, it seemed trivial, so Beira herself was not inclined to pursue the matter, though she made a mental note to ask someone else about the origin of such an appellation, provided the matter crossed her mind again. Soldiers. Always so serious. At least, to Shane's credit, he accepted the seat, and the drink, though he seemed to study the latter before ingesting it. Well, that couldn't be his fault. Nobody called a drink 'strange', if they actively wanted you to drink it.

On the matter of Odric Brey, Shane did not appear willing to make a decision on the spot, instead informing the Utgardian that his choice of letting the wanted man live or not was dependent on whether Odric would be useful alive or not. Such was the complication of this strange world, Midgard. To Beira, the matter was straightforward: Odric was a scum of a human. He deserved death, and she was to give it to him, hopefully. But if the Rune Knight determined that he was privy to some information that would be of benefit to the Fiorean military, then Odric Brey would extend his wretched life, simply because of what he knew, a mercy he did not deserve. Beira kept her thoughts to herself while Shane spoke, but she had already determined: Odric Brey would die today, if she had a say in the matter. And yet, if Shane wanted otherwise, she would have to be careful. He was, after all, most likely even stronger than she was. She remained unmoving as the Knight rose, although her eyes followed his motion, and her lips twitched into a little smile when he thanked her for the drink.

The mere fact that Shane was willing to dare getting captured by the slavers of the desert was a very likely testament to his combat prowess. Beira was unwilling to have to fight with the man; she wasn't even eager to take Odric's life, but there were some things which the run-of-the-mill 'good guys' weren't allowed to do, like kill a demon of a human just because he had some absurd thing called diplomatic immunity. That was why Beira existed. To do what the goodies couldn't. To kill whom they couldn't. Of course, nobody was expected to understand her. As a matter of fact, she was considered a 'dark mage', one of the baddies meant to be defeated by the heroes to the cheer of the audience. But like a parent, forcing a child, screaming and throwing tantrums, to take a bitter medicine, she would continue on her path, not because walking in the shadows was delightful, but because for herself, it was necessary. Maybe one day the world would eventually see through the lens of her own motivations. For now, she would do what was required. Even if the world didn't like it.

Finishing the purple drink at her leisure, Beira went through the contents of the parcel dropped on her table by the client. Then she made sure she collected the name of the beverage from the waiter who had served her, and then left the Golden Oasis. Time was on her side, for the Ring of Blood would begin its activities on the morn of the next day. She had at least all afternoon to find the place, and with the map her old client had made available, it wouldn't be hard at all. Beira wondered how Shane was doing, though a part of her felt it was vain to worry about him. He could definitely take care of himself. And she would have to play the part of some rich, spoiled, bloodthirsty person with a lot of money to spare. That wouldn't be hard. Of course, getting to the Ring of Blood in a way as to show off some deal of financial substance would be probably consonant with the golden VIP card in her possession. Which was why, after surveying the area of the market wherein people offered transportation services, she decided to go with the fellow who operated flying carpets.

Of course, to Beira, such modes of transport were pure novelty, as she had never seen such before, let alone use them. Carefully selecting one of the carpets with designs and colors most pleasing to her eyes, she paid the owner of the carpets, and got on, along with one of the employees of the flying carpet owner, who would be managing the levitating rug. It was interesting to feel that while she did feel like she was sitting on a rug, for all intents and purposes, the rug felt like it was placed on something solid, but her eyes told her that she, as well as her conveyor, were a good number of feet from the sands of Desierto. The trip to the area of the Ring of Blood took about fifteen minutes, and was generally comfortable and uneventful, though the carpet manager regaled Beira with tall tales about the desert. She, for her part, responded with interest, mixed with the aloofness that came from someone who felt others were below her. But she was sure the carpet manager expected her to behave like that. After all, most of the fellows involved in transportation services at the market seemed to regard the area to which she was going as a place of bad repute, and being too cordial with her host could raise suspicions as to why a nice person was going to such a place. It was after all the nature of humans to jump to the conclusion that good people did good things and went to good places, with the converse being true of bad people.

Eventually, she alighted from the carpet, which, as soon as she had gotten off, rose high and sped back in the direction from which it had come. Before her was a colossal cylindrical structure made of sandstone, with very high walls. Before a gridiron gate stood two guards with scimitars. As she approached, one stepped forward to block her path. Beira held out the VIP card, a look of irritated disdain on her face. The guard took it, studied it for a moment, then handed it back, looking surprised. "You not look like one of fighters..." he said in mangled Fiorean. Beira smiled predatorily as she replied, "Maybe I could ask that you have a round with me when the fun begins." She wasn't sure he understood the totality of what she said, but he got the message. With no further disturbance, and subdued looks on their faces, the guards let her in.


WC: 1125 words
Total: 3954/16000

Shane woke up with a snore, his head which was originally nodding forward suddenly tilting back as the Rune Knight roused. A loud bang echoed around the room as the back of his head banged against the rough stone wall behind. The very same sound had pulled all of the attention to him, but the Rune Knight was more occupied with his current predicament first.

Shane Stern smirked and let out a chuckle as he took in his surroundings. He was currently propped up against the wall in a sitting position with both his arms raised to shoulder level and wrists cuffed to the wall with metal restraints. He pulled lightly on the chains, to attempt to know much give they would provide. It was a disappointing few inches, his hands which were level with his face barely able to extend past his face. He looked down and realised that his legs had been shackled as well, attached to a large iron ball.

“Really? Isn’t this a little bit too old school?” Shane frowned, what he was seeing now not really matching up with what he had heard about the Ring of Blood. A thought came to him a second later, and Shane tried to harness his magic powers, not surprised to find the rusty looking restraints were actually capable of halting the ability to tap into his magic powers. Still, it wasn’t a cause for worry. His physical strength was more than enough to get him out of this place should he need to. But for now, this was the place where he wanted to be. Escaping would take place later.

Once done surveying himself, Shane finally turned his head to look at the other occupants in the room. Unlike himself, they were all unrestrained. Some were pacing restlessly near the bars of the large cell that they were kept in while some sat in corners, speaking in hushed tones with each other. All of them would glance at him every once in a while, to which Shane merely gave them the brightest smile he could muster. One of the men near the bars took a good long look at him and then turned back towards the bars before shouting out to someone. Hurried footsteps followed and within seconds, five crudely armoured men came into view. The one in the lead took out a ring of keys from his waist and unlocked the door to the cell.

He stood to one side, allowing another one to enter while the others followed closely. A particular guard, his armour distinctly different from the rest, walked up to Shane and began to give an appraising look. His right hand moved up to his chin, rubbing the stubble while he kept silent. The other three men that had followed him into the cell seemed much busier, their eyes kept on the other prisoners. Once he had finally made up his mind on what to say, the guard with the different armour began to speak.

“For a merchant, you seem to be very fit. Very different from what we have seen so far. Tell me, what is your name?” the man spoke in a rough voice.

“I’m not a merchant,” Shane said with a smirk, before continuing. “I’m a trader’s apprentice. My name is Durran Louram, a trader’s apprentice from Era. Is it my turn to ask questions now? Where am I?”

The guard had undoubtedly taken note of Shane’s smirk and his nonchalance despite the threatening environment they were in, which piqued his curiosity further. “You seem to be awfully calm, especially waking up to being shackled.”

“I have gone to worse detention centres. This isn’t the best, but I can still make do. You guys got the wrong person if you are looking for a quick buck. My master would cut me off and forget me without a bat of the eyelid if you ask for ransom.”

“Easier for me then. Durran Louram, welcome to the Ring of Blood. This will be your new home, and also where you will die, for you are now a gladiator of the Ring of Blood. You would do well with your physique,” the guard remarked, his arms opened wide for dramatic effect but Shane merely stared at him with a deadpan look that said ‘really?’. Not getting the reaction he wanted, the head guard merely snapped his fingers and one of the three guards rushed to his side.

“Bring this man to the preparation centre. He will get his first taste of the Ring of Blood tomorrow morning.”

Without a response, the summoned guard did as he was told. The two other guards had stepped up to his back, keeping a watchful eye on Shane while his cuffs were being swapped, giving him mobility. With a prod, Shane was made to stand up and follow the three of them, himself being in the centre of the triangle formation that they kept up. The one who had spoken to Shane had already left the cell.

[839 words]
[Total WC: 4793 / 14000]

With the VIP card utilized to get in, Beira was immediately shown into a lavish reception, where the spectators, as well as the guests who wanted to get their hands dirty, were milling about, being designated to rooms and lodging places. The Utgardian had to admit she was quite surprised. This place really had a good deal of money going into it. With the structures, the equipment and the enchantments that kept this whole place hidden from the eyes of the law, it was indeed obvious that whoever were in charge of this place had a good deal of clout. It was people like this that made Beira sick to her stomach; the very same people who used their resources, because they had them, to make the lives of others worse. While people who were apathetic to the plights of others didn't rank nearly among Beira's favorite people, those who, because of their riches, affluence and power, caused suffering just because they found it entertaining, were scum that needed to be scoured off the surface of this planet. And while Beira knew that many did not approve of her own ways of making the world a safer place, it was compromises like this, in which members of the government had their hands in dirty things, that made the Utgardian despair of human political structures.

Wondering how the Rune Knight was holding up, and if he had even arrived in the Ring of Blood, Beira received a key and a bunch of lacrima catalogs. Guided by the number inscribed on her key, Beira found her lodging place. A small, but lavishly furnished room, with a lot of comforts. A part of her felt guilty that she was going to spend the night in luxury, while the dungeon lice would feed on a good number of people who, as far as their morality was concerned, were most probably better than the slime she was currently rubbing shoulders with. Sitting down in a chair, the God Slayer began leafing through the catalogs, trying not to be impressed by the convenience which was provided by the strange technology of this world. She felt it was somewhat hypocritical for the academicians of this age to say that science and magic were two diverse fields of study. To Beira, they were one and the same, maybe except how long they had existed. Of course, Beira was more comfortable with magic. It had been around since she was last in Utgardr.

The catalogs showed a schedule of events, and other things, including a list of gladiators to be chosen to fight with, by the guests who wanted to join in on the murder. From the package the old man had given her in the Golden Oasis tavern, Beira drew out a small photograph which bore the image of the man's nephew. Then she began going over the faces in the catalog. Eventually, she saw the name, 'Amar', and beside it, a picture of the old man's nephew. He looked gaunt and miserable, but there was no mistaking that it was the boy. Now, while Beira was filled with more disgust by the fact that the guests in this macabre event could pick those whom they would kill in the arena, like meat animals being selected in the market, she realized that this selection exercise, most likely done to avoid clashes between guests over their victims, gave her an advantage. If she selected Amar as her opponent, he would not have to fight anyone else except her, and she would be able to make his liberation more sure.

The only problem was utilizing the blasted lacrima catalog. Beira read the directions on how to use the stuff. She had been commended for her intellect, even by people who hadn't liked her, so she was sure she would be able to wrap her head around this thing. It looked simple enough. All she had to do was touch the name of the person she wanted to fight with on the morrow. As Beira moved her finger to touch Amar's name, she noted with heavy distaste that there was even an option for 'assistance', which she knew meant putting the victim at a disadvantage so that the guest would definitely win, when they fought. She tapped the name of interest, and it flashed red. Odd. The directions had stipulated that a successful choice would make the name flash green. It could only mean that one of the Ring of Blood's patrons had chosen Amar.

"Of all the rotten luck..." Beira muttered as she rose to her feet. Amar could not be killed. Beira took great pride in keeping her word, and to her, merely accepting the mission was a way of saying it could be guaranteed that the mission would be successful. She would have to do a bit of sleuthing about, and if possible, some manipulation to make things work as she desired. Fortunately, she had a good deal of time to work, as the schedule noted that the fights would begin tomorrow. So, all she had to do was find the right people and make the right moves. In places like this, money had a way of making people rather cooperative. And if she could not get her hands on money, she would attempt to charm her way through. A few questions and inquiries revealed that catalogs, once filled, were submitted to a place called the Preparation Center, which seemed to be concerned with sorting, selecting, and preparing gladiators for their fights. Normally, the patrons of the Ring of Blood, who were interested in shedding some blood, submitted their catalogs to the staff of the Reception Area, and said catalogs were transferred to the storage section of the Preparation Center. Fortunately for Beira, the Preparation Center was not out of bounds, as some patrons occasionally would go down to the place in order to look at the victims they had chosen, and maybe make more informed decisions on what they would do in the arena, when the time came to fight. Using a small map on one of the catalogs, Beira arrived at the Preparation Center. It was a bit busy, with cages here and there, equipment for restraining people, as well as weapons lining a wall. She began looking for the right person to interact with.


WC: 1059 words
Total: 5852/16000

Shane was pushed roughly into one of the solitary cells in the Preparation Centre, one of the many in a row of cages lined up against the roughly-hewn walls. Every cell came with a bed and a urinal in plain sight, the gladiators’ modesty not being any concern to the organizers of the Ring of Blood. The Preparation Centre was an extremely large hall. One wall was completely lined up with cages, and looking from between the bars, Shane could see that all of the cages were full. All twelve of them. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that all of them, Shane included, would be part of the show tomorrow. Guards patrolled along the wall, five of them, each holding a large shield and a glowing stick. Shane had an inkling of what those were. Probably equipped with lightning lacrima, meant to deliver literally shocking hits to any of the gladiators acting out.

Directly across the room were entire racks of weapons, from melee to ranged. It was like the management of the Ring of Blood wanted to goad the captured gladiators into escape attempts, to show them false hope that they could actually make it out of this place. But there was a more practical reason behind it. It was simply for them to use the time to consider and make their choices, so that they could just grab whatever they would need and be hurried off to the arena where they would try to fight for their lives and freedom.

Shane lied back in his bed after the guards had released him from his shackles. There was nothing he could do right now. He needed a plan if he wanted to shut this whole thing down, but for now, he would have to get outside first. His neighbors, curious about the new face, were murmuring about him in a low voice with the other neighboring cells. He could hear them quite clearly, but the Rune Knight paid them no heed. For now.

A door at the very far end of the hall opened with a loud creak and bang, and a few people began looking through the bars of the cells, as though a zoo. Their conversations told Shane that these were the people who had allowed the Ring of Blood to flourish. The patrons who paid to watch men fight to the death for their very survival, men that felt the need to watch the suffering of another of their own kind to justify their own superiority. To them, it was a proof of their power, to so casually use their ill-gotten wealth to buy a sense of superiority. In short, weak-willed men who bought their egos and confidence.

Shane ignored the few people who had stopped at his cell, but he would open one eye every time someone passed by. And then he finally saw the one he had been waiting for. Bolting up from his bed, Shane walked to the bars and called for the blonde female walking past in a low voice.

“Beira!” the Rune Knight hissed, hands clutching the bars. He could have easily just bent the bars to the side and casually sauntered out of here, but he wanted to know the people at the top, the ones running the show. He wanted to make sure that by the end of this whole mission, the entire Ring of Blood would have no one left to revive this sick game.

[580 words]
[Total WC: 6432 / 14000]

Beira noted with some level of happiness that there were a number of people in this area called the Preparation Center. Aside the miserable-looking people in the cages, there were a number of patrons and staff, discussing various matters about the events of tomorrow. After observing the staff of the Preparation Center, and discovering the one in charge of the records, the Utgardian watched him for a bit. It seemed the strange lacrima catalog things, which were used to select gladiators with which to fight, were kept in a small cubicle, after being collected from Reception. That was most likely where what she was looking for was. Having successfully identified the cubicle, and ascertaining that it was the place she wanted, and it was empty, Beira left the Preparation Center, and once in the corridor leading out, she placed her own catalog in the Librarium Obscuri, activated her Anima Umbrae and vanished.

Sneaking back carefully into the Center, Beira successfully stole her way into the cubicle, passing easily through the door of the small room without having to open it. Once inside, she began going through the catalogs there until she found the catalog that had chosen Amar. Perfect. A quick study of the catalog established that whoever this person was was really an embarrassing bottom-of-the-rung kind of jackhole. Despite Amar looking so feeble and unchallenging, whoever had selected him had still opted for 'assistance'. With a lot of vitriol in her mind, Beira unselected Amar from the person's catalog, selected Amar in hers, and searched for a replacement fighter that would be suitable for this piece of trash. She saw a name, Durran Louram, with Shane's face beside it. With a wicked chuckle, she chose Shane on the piece of trash's catalog, and made sure she didn't select 'assistance'. Whoever it was would have a lovely shock tomorrow when the met Shane in battle in the arena, instead of Amar. Beira hoped that shock would be their last. Then after a bit of consideration, Beira eliminated 'assistance' from all the catalogs in the cubicle.

Having included her own catalog in the list, and feeling satisfied with herself, the God Slayer returned the same way she came, rendered herself visible with no one the wiser, and went back into the Preparation Center to look around once more. As she wandered around, she saw a figure hunched on the bed in one of the cages, looking as miserable as a wet hen. Amar. Hopefully, if luck was on her side, he would be freed by tomorrow, and the perpetrators and supporters of this inhumanity would walk among the shades of the dead. Hopefully, as many as possible of the victims could be rescued. There might be some unfortunate deaths, but Beira would do her best to ensure that every death of a captive would be avenged. She was glad Shane was there to join her in this.

The sound of someone hissing her name caught her attention, and she turned to see the Rune Knight in one of the cages, trying to get her attention. Walking casually over to the cage as though it was she who noticed and took interest in the captive in the cage, so as to fool any onlookers, Beira silently cast her Fabula Phantasmatis, creating the illusion that Shane was just in the cell watching her impassively, while she herself watched him with some interest. Even if anyone drew close, he would hear nothing of any conversation they would have.

"Greetings again, Shane," the Utgardian maiden said gently. "I hope you are well, despite this execrable condition. I hope you do not mind, by the way, but I have sent a... friend to dance in the arena with you tomorrow. I know nothing about their identity, except that you may treat this person with-- how do you say it in Fiorean-- extreme prejudice. So, what do you wish to tell me? You may speak freely. The entire region is under a spell; no one will know what we're up to, unless anyone tries to touch either of us, which I shall dissuade as passionately as possible."


WC: 690 words
Total: 7122/16000

Shane chuckled when Beira approached his cell, the former looking as though he was here for a break and merely looking out of the window of a vacation home, instead of the agitation and anxiety that the rest of the inmates wore.

“Greetings to you too,” Shane replied in kind with a nod of his head. “This place? Don’t worry about it. This ‘friend’ you mention. Any name? I can’t really promise anything when I’m in the ring though. I might pull my punches, but if I’m forced to, I won’t be lenient regardless of how these people come to be. Unlike our client’s kid, some of these men here are real scum of Earthland and got here as retribution. So, have you found out any leads about the kid? I don’t have any real plans yet. Best I have is for me to fight it out tomorrow, get a good look at who’s running the show and then bust out once I’m done before we clean this place up.”

Midway through their conversation, they were interrupted and anyone not personnel were escorted out of the preparation center. Shane gave Beira a reassuring smile as he went back to his bed and laid back down in it, shutting his eyes and getting as much rest as possible. Hopefully the plan would work tomorrow and he would be able to end this whole mission by the end of the evening. As he drifted to sleep, as did the other chosen fighters for the Ring tomorrow, a particular man was looking right at the Rune Knight’s sleeping form now that his view was no longer obstructed.

Anger burned in the man’s eyes as he glared at Shane. He backhanded the bars of the cell to his right, and in response, another man got up from his bunk as well. Replying only with a questioning shake of his head, the second fellow’s eyes followed the direction of where the first was pointing. A flash of recognition in his eyes later, the face of the second man scrunched up in anger as well.

The next morning arrived very abruptly, with a kick to his bunk. The Rune Knight opened one eye to look at whoever was disturbing his sleep. Two guards stood by his bed, armed and in armor. Shane turned to his left and right, observing the other cells and saw that the others in the cells were also being herded out of their cells and towards the wall of weapons.

“Time to go,” one of them spoke up and kicked the bed again. Shane frowned slightly and got up without a word, as one of the two moved forward to put on a pair of handcuffs around his wrists and then one more around his ankles. The other one then turned around to lead him out while the other positioned himself behind Shane. He was brought to face the wall of weapons, but Shane had long since decided on which he would use when he was brought here yesterday.

“I’ll take that,” the Rune Knight said, pointing to a sword and shield. The sheath of the sword was built into the shield itself, so that the sword hilt poked from the top of the shield while the tip of the sheath extended past the round shield’s bottom. It would do for today, Shane had decided as the lead guard took it down from the wall and held on to it. The three of them then joined the others that were walking towards a door at the far side of the room. Roaring cheers could be heard, getting louder with each step that brought them closer to the door. Whoever was commentating outside was doing a perfectly good job of rousing up the spirits of the audience.

There was a holding cell that they had to enter before they could pass through the doors, and once they were through, the guard at the back locked it so that they were cut off from the preparation center. The cuffs were removed and then with a push, the lead guard opened the double doors, pouring bright sunlight into the dimly lit cavern. The thunderous cheers of the audience hit them full blast right in the face. The sword and shield was shoved into Shane’s arms and he was pushed out into the arena.

“And for our first match, Durran Louram vs Angale Rolph!” the voice of the commentator boomed across the arena and the stands.

Shane slipped his left arm into the shield’s straps and then walked further into the arena. From another gate on the opposite side, walked out a thin but sturdy youth. Like Shane, he was not armored. The two of them had entered into the arena with nothing but their pants and their weapons. It was obvious that the participants wanted quick and bloody fights. The youth held the halberd in his hands with a familiarity that matched Shane’s with his shield.

“BEGIN!”

[832 words]
[Total WC: 7954 / 14000]

Beira allowed herself a laugh, seeing that the Rune Knight looked to be more enjoying himself than was expected, especially when comparing him with the rest of the people in the other cages. While Shane had no problems with the living conditions, he did ask a few questions about the person Beira had set him up to fight with. "His name is strange to me, like many names I have heard of late," Beira said with an uninterested tone, "but I know it starts with an 'ah' sound, or some such thing. In any case, your opponent is likely one of them scum of the earth types. I've been doing a bit of work, and I discovered he was slated to fight our client's boy, with the match set to be rigged to ensure the boy's loss. Fortunately, I took the liberties of making some more proper adjustments to the fighting schedule, so he won't be fighting a defenseless kid tomorrow, unless you pass off as 'defenseless kid'." A naughty smile played across her lips when she mentioned this. "Frankly, I'd love to see the reactions on people's faces when the first fight doesn't turn out as expected. Concerning the organizers of this hellhole--"

Beira was going to say more, but was interrupted by a voice booming over a communication system, instructing that the Preparation Center be emptied in readiness for the next day. "Good luck tomorrow," Beira said, walking away from the cage and disrupting the illusion she had cast to prevent people from becoming suspicious of a patron and a gladiator talking. As she exited the room with the other patrons, the God Slayer did as much as possible to maintain a straight face, as the patrons were called to the general hall to feast and get drunk. Quite irritating, especially remembering how others of less fortune were just some distance away, languishing in fleas and cages, while, because these ones had jewels to throw around, they would have entertainment at the unwilling expense of others just like them. Beira wished she could cut loose and execute a bit of carnage there and then, but she was sure she might end up in a bad position. Best to bide her time and wait for the right moment. So she just sat and watched, as three men, obviously foreigners to Desierto, came and gave a speech, and encouraged everyone to have a good time. Most definitely the organizers. One of them was certainly Odric Brey. But if anyone didn't notice, Beira could perceive a huge, misshapen creature hiding out of sight, following these men about. It was expected of them to have a guard of sorts. To get to these devils of men, the guard would have to be eliminated.

Unlike most of the patrons who delved into the eating, drinking and partying, Beira simply got some food sent to her room, and retired for the night. She slept a little, and was already awake and ready long before dawn. After all the patrons had been roused, those to be involved in the day's bloodshed were asked to choose their weapons. Beira chose a whip and a short sword. She knew how to use the whip effectively, and the sword would be for parrying, and kills, if they were necessary. Soon, everyone was ushered into the arena proper. It was much larger than Beira had expected, but she quickly made out the stand wherein the very very important people would be sitting, most likely including the organizers of the Ring. Two names were called, and Beira saw the men walk onto the grounds. One of them was Shane. With everyone watching the match about to begin, Beira decided to see if she could get some more information. A call for the battle to begin got the audience screaming at the tops of their lungs. If she had her way, there would be very few voices left to scream by sundown.


WC: 661 words
Total: 8615/16000

Shane danced around in the ring to the combination of cheers and boos coming from the audience. Cheers for the young man with the halberd, skillfully hacking at Shane from every direction possible with the halberd. Boos for the larger man, who was using a relatively weaker-looking sword and shield, who did nothing but continuously evading or defending against the heavy strokes of the large, curved blade. But what they perceived as cowardice flight from the mighty slashes of the halberd was actually the Rune Knight testing out the strength and mastery of the young man with his weapon of choice.

Despite the quick slashes, Shane had realized that they held little power, the weapon bouncing off his shield without even needing him to push back against it. All he had to do was to adjust the way his shield would hit the blade and the halberd would automatically glance off. Shane had initially felt sympathetic for the younger man due to the difference in abilities, but when he saw the warped look and the fire in his eyes as he pursued his ‘prey’, the Rune Knight in Shane, the more rational part of him, instantly dismissed the pity he had felt.

He was merely biding his time now, waiting for his opponent to tire from swinging that huge weapon aimlessly. There was no point trying to overpower his opponent. He needed to preserve his strength anyway. When the slashes finally slowed down and the young man’s breathing got more and more erratic with each movement, his speed slowing as well, Shane made his first strike. The moment the young man slashed downwards with his weapon, attempting to cleave Shane’s head, the Rune Knight nimbly ran within range and held his shield up so that the shaft of the halberd hit it instead, and with a small push, Shane deflected the weapon and threw its wielder off balance.

He took another step forward towards the stumbling combatant and unhesitatingly slashed lightly as he pulled out his weapon from the shield. A thin red line appeared across the young man’s chest before sudden pressure from gushing blood tore the wound open. His blood spilt generously to the ground before he collapsed himself, eyes open wide in shock as he slowly bled out. Shane looked downwards at the young man with cold eyes.

Sheathing his weapon with a very loud clink amidst the silence, the audience having been caught off guard by the sudden turn in events, Shane walked back to the gates where he had entered the arena from and looked at the organized questioningly. While he waited for the host to regain his composure and quickly announce the obvious results of the round, Shane suddenly turned around towards the audience. For a moment, he had felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up on ends, a sudden chill shooting down his back.

It seemed like someone else had seen through the façade that Shane had put up in the first round. Shane looked at the sitting audience in every direction, but the feeling had faded as quickly as it had been felt. He recognized that feeling very well, the feeling of being hunted. The ominous presence of a predator that seemed to already have him in his grasp.

“Seems like I’ve attracted a strong one,” Shane mumbled with a smirk on his face when he finally locked eyes with somebody in the audience. And that somebody was giving him a very toothy grin in return. A grin that was very much inhumane, with two fangs longer than usual.

[601 words]
[Total WC: 9216 / 14000]

Though she wasn't a fan of small talk, Beira had been trained at the Utgardian court to learn how to appear interested in utter drivel, as well as stylishly twist a conversation in the direction she wanted it to go, while keeping up the appearance that her fellow tattlers were in charge of the discussion, when in actuality they weren't. Using this important skill, the Utgardian discovered a few things which might prove useful to the outcome of this mission. The first was that the gates, and all exits to the Ring of Blood, were closed till the events were over. The second was that the three organizers of the Ring always sat in their special box, under the watchful eye of some two-headed creature. To get to them, the two-headed beast had to be dealt with.

As the battle went on between Shane and his opponent, Beira watched, quite curious to see what the result of her little manipulation would be. Initially, the Utgardian thought Shane would be quick to end the match, but she was still satisfied by the way he took things. Beira had to admit she felt a little degree of perverse pleasure watching the piece of human trash trying to hack away at the Rune Knight, who wisely kept from expending his own energy, while the fool with the halberd kept throwing himself at Shane, as Beira knew the outcome of the battle. The knight had allowed the charade to go on for a while until his opponent was tired, then with a single counter and slash, the match was over. The arena was silent, as the Sunexpected outcome of the match struck most of the patrons like a deprecating slap to the face. Shane's apparent nonchalance served to appear as an added insult to the injury of the patrons realizing that 'mistakes' like this could happen, and the death of one of their own served to shake not a few.

Beira, for her part, held a hand to her mouth and laughed a dainty, snobbish laugh. One of the patrons, face ashen from what she had just beheld, turned to look at the gloating Utgardian questioningly, who shrugged and said in response to her unanswered question, "Blood has been spilt. For me, that is all that matters." Her words seemed to disgust the other woman, who turned away. "How do you like it now?" the God Slayer silently thought, watching the knight as he walked back towards the entrance from which he had come. Now perhaps these rich fools would understand the meaning of the value of a life. Not that it really mattered, anyway. Most, if not all, would soon lose their own lives as well.

For a moment, Shane seemed to react to something, as he scanned the crowd for a moment, while the gates were being opened to let him through. As that was happening, the host announced that two matches would be had simultaneously, to increase the excitement, which had been chilled by Shane's unexpected success. Beira was a bit surprised, but not at all unprepared to hear herself being one of the next people up. "Wish me luck," she said to those around her, as she rose to her feet. Being a VIP of the arena, she was expected to win, but with the results of the first match, anything surely could happen, couldn't it?. Picking her weapons, she made her way into the corridor leading down into the arena, as Shane would be returning from the arena, and the corpse of his opponent would be removed. She needed to give him a bit of information, just as a heads-up for what would happen next.

To communicate with him without raising too many eyebrows, Beira decided to play the coquette. She was sure that as a soldier, he would have some degree of self-control, and would not react to her 'advances'. As the two were about passing each other, Beira suddenly reached out and locked her hand behind Shane's neck, attempting to pull his head downwards and closer to her level, while standing on tiptoe as much as she could, cursing her small stature as she did. The people in the dimly lit corridor would probably think she was just being randy, but the bad lighting would hide the movement of her lips as she whispered just two words, "I'm starting." Hopefully, Shane would have an idea of what she meant.

The guards in the corridor, of course, hurried to separate the two mages, thinking that the short mage was just being frisky. She would do nothing to divest them of that opinion. "I like this one," Beira said to no one in particular. Her next words were quite directed at Shane, though only he would probably get her true meaning. "I trust we'll meet real soon in the arena. Don't keep me waiting." The other arena-sponsored combatant, just some steps behind Beira made a derogatory comment in disgust. He was a trained gladiator, by the looks of it, and would know his way around in a fight. Beira turned to give him a look of pointed disdain, but in actuality, she was trying to lay her eyes on the opponents that would be coming some steps behind them. She sighted Amar. Good. The other person she didn't know, but she would still try to save him, if she could. She just needed to be smart. A plan was already forming in her mind.

Names were announced, and the combatants came to stand facing each other. Beira theatrically tossed her trademark cloak aside, as she readied her whip and short sword, watching her opponents. Amar held a spear; given the way he held it, Beira was sure he had never used such a weapon before, though he seemed unwilling to just die without giving whoever would take his life a run for their money. His partner was worse. His weapon was an axe, and his legs were visibly shaking. The gladiator Beira was paired with laughed cruelly and said to her, "Take the pathetic jelly. The lad with the spear looks to be of more solid material." Perfect. His animosity to her would give her the perfect excuse to fight him without his knowing it.

"You will not tell me what to do, you pig!" Beira replied heatedly, as the temperature in the area suddenly dropped, and an unexpected blizzard swooped in from the sky. As Beira wasn't yet intent on making everyone really panic, only the gladiator in the arena with her took the full brunt of the storm, though everyone else felt the bitter chill. "Stop, you wretched ice witch," the gladiator yelled, aiming at her, but missing, due to his blindness. Amar took the opportunity to attack, going for Beira, as she seemed to be the more dangerous one. She flicked her wrist, and both Amar and his partner were frozen in nether rime. They wouldn't die, but they would be there for a while. The storm dissipated, and Beira sauntered over to the two ice statues and placed her hands on them. In the next moment, they were gone, with fading wisps of ominous black smoke and orange runes dancing in the light a moment before disappearing.

This battle was much freakier than the first, but everyone would have to assume that the two hapless fighters had been killed by the "ice witch's" magic. There was a pause, then the crowds erupted, as the host called the winners. Of course, the gladiator was not impressed. He said something in an unknown language and spat on Beira's boots, before turning and heading for the exit. For a moment, Beira was silent, staring at the gunk on her boot, her face flushing bright red. Then she said words in an esoteric language of her own, two beautiful, black chakrams appearing in each hand. Before anyone could so much as utter a word, she had thrown one of the chakrams. The gladiator took three steps more before falling headless to the ground, as the thrown chakram returned in a graceful arc to be caught by her outstretched hand.

The arena was silent again. Beira could see one of the organizers whisper something to an attendant, and before long, another Ring gladiator and nearly a dozen slavers began approaching her warily from the exit. She stood still, chakrams in either hand, watching as they drew closer.

"It begins...."


WC: 1407
Total: 10623/16000

Shane had turned around to give one last glance at the large fellow in the hooded cloak, which only exposed two long fangs in his smile. The Rune Knight wasn’t even sure it was a ‘he’, but judging from the sudden manifestation of what one would normally call a killing aura, or murderous intent, he knew that the ending for this job wasn’t going to be as simple as he thought. When he turned around to return to the Preparation Centre, which was just the fancy name for his holding cell and the wall of weapons, the Rune Knight could feel two other waves of the same murderous intent charging right at him with abandon, and they were coming from two other directions. He had attracted the attention of the wrong crowd for sure, the blonde Knight thought to himself as he walked away nonchalantly, as through he hadn’t sensed anything amiss.

As he walked into the shade of the tunnel that led into the Preparation Centre, Shane bumped into Beira. He knew that the VIPs of the Ring of Blood could choose to enter the arena for a thrill, normally fighting starved or dying combatants to give them a twisted boost of superiority, tricking themselves into thinking that they were real winners at life. But seeing Beira walking towards him, he knew that she was getting impatient. Caught unexpected by the hand around his neck, pulling their faces so near that he could feel her breath on her cheek, Shane thought his mission partner had gone bonkers. But he hadn’t been disappointed. She still kept her cool and calm, all of this just an act for the others.

“Got it,” Shane replied the moment she finished, just before the guards reached them. Beira spoke two more sentences, as though she was flirting with him and while Shane replied with a grin on his face, his eyes were glinting dangerously. He took his time walking back to his cell, hands cuffed in front of him with some type of magic suppressing hand cuffs, the same that had been used on him since yesterday and only released from for his fight in the arena. However, a wave of shouts erupted from the arena and within seconds, the guards were rushing into the chamber and unlocking all of the cages. Shane studied them for a second before a guard came up to him and pushed his earlier weapons into his hands while releasing him from the shackles.

“Fighters! We have a situation outside! Code Orange! If you want your freedom, then this is your chance! Bring down the troublemaker in the arena and you shall win your freedom!” a loud voice boomed from the back of the hall, from where the VIPs would enter. A tall man, dressed immaculately in a suit, was shouting at the top of his voice. The voice and the appearance were a mismatch but he had already got their attention. Freedom. It was what everyone in the hall were looking forward to, and their response was exactly what the man in the suit needed.

With echoing yells and hollering, all of the combatants rushed out into the arena. Shane gave one last glance at the man in the suit before following the rest. But it was a feint. The moment he took his third step, Shane fluidly spun around on his left heel and sent the shield in his hand flying straight at the man, who was still observing them with a creepy smile on his face. His smile froze a little when the shield flew in his direction, aimed at his face, but he remained unfazed, holding his hand out and catching it barehanded. The momentum of the throw did surprise him as he lost control of his right arm as it swung back and pulled him back a few steps. It wiped the grin off his face most satisfactorily.

“You underestimate me too much,” Shane’s voice appeared from behind him, as he kicked forward from point blank range. The man in the suit flew forward but with a strength belying his appearance, what seemed like a sure faceplant into the ground was actually negated by extending one palm into the ground and forcefully flipping over and spinning around to face Shane before kicking off the ground. His speed was remarkable even for Shane’s standards, and the Rune Knight crossed his arms in front of him as he took the punch head-on. It was an attempt to test his opponent’s strength. Shane moved back a few feet, his boots drawing two parallel lines from where he originally stood.

“Likewise, Captain, likewise,” the man replied and with them this close, it finally hit Shane. This guy was a former Rune Knight, from one of the branches. “What do you think of my strength now?”

A memory flashed into Shane’s mind, of an older Rune Knight from one of the branches. At that time, Shane hadn’t even used any of his magic and it was his innate strength albeit boosted by All Might after having the magic for so long. It had been a disastrous loss for the braggart of a Rune Knight, who was unfortunately the strongest in his branch and had used it to bully his way around. Shane had faked a visit to the branch, as a stopover on his way to another town, when he had actually gone there to investigate a whistleblower’s claims. It was exactly like what the complains had mentioned, and knowing that someone was flouting their strength and authority, Shane had punished the man severely, eventually stripping him of his rank and kicking him out of the Rune Knights.

“I almost couldn’t recognize you in that suit, Sunny,” Shane smirked in reply. As he said that, his left hand had already opened and clamped down on his former subordinate’s lower arm that was still extended after the punch and pulled it in towards him while his right palm thrust forward at the man’s chest. The sudden change in tempo caught Sunny off guard and the man took the full brunt of Shane’s attack, coughing as he stumbled backwards but only for a few steps. Shane’s left arm was still firmly clamping down on his right wrist and he reeled the man in again, this time his right hand grabbing his opponent’s collar and throwing him over his shoulders into the ground on the other side with a loud boom.

Sunny grunted loudly in pain, his groans filling up the now empty Preparation Hall.

“I thought you would have learnt your lesson after I was done with you. But it seems like I had failed to drive it as deep into your head as I thought,” Shane said as he talked down towards his former coworker in a menacing tone. “You’re really lower than scum.”

“Scum?!” Sunny’s focus was brought back, his pain temporarily forgotten as his eyes widened in anger. It was the very same thing that Shane had called him when he had his ass delivered to him. However, instead of changing himself and finding a proper way to live, the man had moved further down the road of no return, using illegal potions to strengthen himself while getting himself involved in the Ring of Blood. Eyes suddenly taking note of what was near his feet, Sunny moved with an unexpected swiftness and he kicked at the rack of polearms, from halberds to spears. The entire rack flew into the air above Shane and then dropped like rain, sharp edges slicing downwards.

Sunny had used the chance to roll away and got back up, his face twisted in anger. Barely fazed, Shane held up his left hand and with a single word “Tower” coming from him, black flames blazed into existence from around his elbow before swarming up his raised arm and blasted upwards, scattering the weapons that would have harmed him. The variety of polearms dropped to the ground as noisily as possible, black flames licking along their length, all around Shane.

“I assume that repentance would be asking too much of you,” Shane said as he shook his head. Black flames still raged across his left arm but instead, the Rune Knight Captain held up his right hand, holding a SIG Sauer P250 pistol custom modified according to his preferences. Two shots rang out hollowly in the large cavern, and Sunny dropped to the ground with a bullet hole in his right knee, utterly smashing through his knee cap while the other bullet took his left elbow. “Let it not be said that I’m merciless. I’ve given you a second chance. Do with it what you will.”

Shane turned around and walked out of the Preparation Center, leaving his former subordinate to howl in rage and pain. Curses followed behind Shane until he closed the gates to the arena behind him. It was round two.

[1488 words]
[Total WC: 12111 / 14000]

As the gladiator and the slavers approached, Beira's unnaturally sharp senses picked an approaching clamor. It sounded like a group of people approaching, running, bearing weapons, and she was sure they weren't coming to help her. As the newcomers poured into the arena, Beira discovered with irritation that most of them were the victims of the arena. What had they been promised in return for working for the Ring of Blood? Freedom? That was laughable, seeing as they actually owed nothing to the owners of the Ring, just finding themselves there as merely victims of circumstance. What was to prevent the Ring of Blood proprietors from going back on their word and forcing them back into fights to the death, after the upstart (yes, that was Beira) had been put down? Well, it wasn't Beira's plan to find out.

The first strategic advantage she had was that the arena size wasn't incredibly vast, so her spells could reach most, if not all, in the immediate vicinity. The Winter Goddess blew a kiss at the advancing hostiles, and they began noticing that movement was becoming more ponderous, even as the cold that descended on the arena was more biting and hazardous than was normal. Even as they slowed, Beira sprang into action with her chakrams, weaving among the combatants elegantly, dancing a graceful dance of death and dismemberment, leaving decapitated bodies, heads, limbs and other large fragments of human bodies in her wake, as she directed her Annuli Orci, using Orbitae Lunarum, to cut down her enemies, while she danced out of the way of their attacks. The hapless idiots who had been persuaded to attack her as well were easy to distinguish from the Ring's staff, what with their poor weapons and gear, and anyone of them foolish enough to attempt to attack the Utgardian maiden was rewarded with a crippling, but temporarily debilitating and not at all life-threatening, riposte. The decollation and other forms of terminal mangling were reserved for the Ring staff.

There was something about violence which was mesmerizing to the onlookers in the arena; it was violence, after all, that had brought them here. Mere violence, with no higher motives. And so, guided by the illusion that there was nothing planned for they themselves in the bloodfest proceeding below, they stayed and watched. Soon, it would be too late for them. And they wouldn't know until it happened. The first sign that no one was safe revealed itself when, in the midst of the chaotic dance of death, Beira suddenly vanished in a puff of black smoke and runes. She reappeared in a crouch, in the VIP booth, using her extrasensory perception to quickly place a tab on everyone in the room. There were eight of them; three were not Desiertan, so Beira immediately surmised that one of them would have to be Odric Brey, the one whom Beira had been specifically instructed to kill. Best way to do it was kill them all. That way, there wouldn't be the possibility that Odric had escaped. Alarge wall of ice suddenly grew into the doorway, to prevent guards from getting in, while her chakrams began whirling in concentric spirals, increasing in their radii as they flew, bringing well-deserved death to the denizens of the booth. Suddenly, what appeared to have been a strange statue in the corner of the booth came to life and moved, grabbing one of the chakrams mid-flight with one hand, which curiously vanished on touching the creature, and grabbing Beira by the neck with the other hand, before choke-slamming her painfully onto the floor of the VIP booth. As the other chakram fell to the floor, the creature extended a leg and stepped on it, pinning it down and making the projectile disappear as well.

Beira cursed inwardly. She had forgotten to take note of the strange guard that the bosses of the Ring had about them. Hopefully that would be a mistake she would recover from. She could see the creature now, a two-headed monstrosity. It raised its free hand, ready to deliver  a death blow, when a voice called to it to hold a moment. Out of the corner of her eye, Beira could see that her initial assault had slaughtered four of the people in the booth. "Can't she still attack?" a hesitant voice asked, to which a more confident one replied, "nah, she looks too puny to handle the ettin physically. And she can't use magic. Our bodyguard wears rings which cancel magic usage in whatever it touches." The three Fioreans and an extravagantly clad Desiertan walked into view, peering curiously at her. The fact that she hadn't even injured one of the Fioreans was a testament to the effectiveness of their guard. "I thought an assassin would look a lot bigger and tougher," the Desiertan said disparagingly, though he had a perverse look in his eye. One of the Fioreans drew nearer, an appraising expression on his face. "Delicate frame, but quite exceptional specimen, wouldn't you say? How much would you pay to have her, Khabith?"

The Desiertan huffed. "What makes you think I'd want to own someone that wants to kill me, Mr. Odric?" So that was the man. It seemed Odric was primarily driven by gain, which explained why he had struck at her client the way he had, over a business matter. Odric laughed and spread his hands. "Both of us know you prefer the wild ones. And with curves like that, I'd say two packages for the price of one, eh?" It was clear that these men felt themselves so untouchable that they didn't fear death, only because they thought themselves insured against it. Beira struggled vainly to give the false notion that she was unable to break free of the monster. If any of the people in the booth thought she was capable of attacking again, she would probably be killed outright, or worse, properly restrained.

The two men began discussing in Desiertan, while the other two Fioreans, drew closer, confident that the assassination attempt was over. One of them muttered a curse as he kicked the supine Utgardian in the side. Beira was sure she could handle pain, but she had to make it appear that she was helpless. She gave a particularly agonized moan, eliciting the discussing men to stop and look at her. "Hmm... I think I liked the sound of that," the Desiertan said, rubbing his hands together. "Let us agree on the last price you mentioned, Mr. Odric." Odric smiled. "Deal," he said, then turned to the ettin. "Take her and get her packaged for Khabith."

Still pinning Beira to the ground, the ettin reached for her with its second hand, when Beira, summoning all her God Slayer strength, suddenly grabbed the index finger of the hand holding her down, and wrenched it with all her might, dislocating the finger in two places. The creature roared and swung downward at the blonde girl, but it had reflexively released its grip on her, and so she rolled out of the way. The ettin growled and grabbed a tree-trunk, which had been shaped to form a club, from a corner, realizing that the girl would be a bit more than a handful. But that was enough time for Beira to flip with surprising speed through the air to cover the distance between herself and Odric Brey.

"Hi," she said with a bright smile, grabbing his head with both hands. In the next millisecond, there was the sickening sound of snapping bone, as Odric's head was turned a complete 180 degrees. It was the turn of the ettin to move extraordinarily fast too, swinging at Beira with its club, not caring that Khabith was in the direction of the swing. She couldn't dodge, but she created a buckler of ice to defend against the swinging club. Beira had the time to see the Desiertan's body twist in an unnatural way when impacted by the club, before her own shield shattered, and she was sent flying out of the booth. Using her agility and mastery over nether rime, the Winter Goddess performed a physics defying series of acrobatics, landing gracefully on the sands of the arena, though it would be obvious to see that she was injured. She could still fight, but she was really hoping Shane was somewhere close.


WC: 1398 words
Total: 13509/16000

Shane left the already empty cavern, the weapons shelves already picked clean by the fighters that had been locked up earlier. As he walked out into the sun, he could see that the entire arena was a mess with bloodied fighters lying all around. He could tell that the wounds were all created by weapons too sharp to belong to the ones provided by the Ring of Blood. And he knew who had done it. The commotion from the VIP booths confirmed his thought, just in time to see Beira teleport into the booths with an intent to kill. It was probably for the Odric guy that she had mentioned earlier. Without even needing to contemplate it, Shane decided that she was free to do what she wanted. After witnessing the horrific way the Ring of Blood did things, the Rune Knight wanted nothing but to completely bury them in the desert. There was no need to leave anyone alive, lest someone had the thought of resurrecting this damned place.

A heavily scratched shield appeared on his lower left arm as he walked over the moaning and groaning prisoners. From his vantage point, Shane looked up to the VIP booths and suddenly frowned. He could just barely see Beira getting attacked by an enemy that could match her every move or maybe even overpower her. The Rune Knight shrugged and Requipped into his Combat Suit and with a powerful kick off the ground, leapt towards the VIP booth.

But it wasn’t meant to be. From the corner of his eyes, a shadow flashed by but Shane wasn’t able to evade it in time. He could only twist his body slightly, shifting the shield to his front as three simultaneous screeches pierced his ears. A kick came towards him, which he managed to further maneuver himself to retaliate with his own kick, sending him and his attacker apart in mid-air. Dropping to the ground, Shane rolled and quickly got back to his feet, already in his combat stance while his opponent flipped himself in air and landed on the top of the wall that separated the arena from the spectator stands. He was hooded, and emitted the same murderous intent that he had felt earlier.

Then the hood fell, torn away with the cloak by a clawed hand. It wasn’t a ‘he’. It was a beast that stood seven feet tall, heavily muscled and fully covered in grey fur. Each and every digit were tipped with sharp claws that the beast was flexing involuntarily as the two combatants sized each other up. However, his lower limbs resembled that of a bird instead, with scales and talons. Three talons to be exact. The creature’s eyes peered at Shane with the intelligence of an apex predator, an intelligence that was fully concentrated on how to best destroy this new target. The hooked beak that it had was even more proof of its hybrid type.

The two combatants charged at each other, Shane running forward while the creature leapt into the air and dove at Shane with his outstretched talons. The Rune Knight raised the shield above his head and he could feel the weight of the monster as it stomped three times on the shield when it hit, an indication of the creature’s formidable reflexes and dexterity. The moment he felt the weight lift, Shane spun around with a new weapon his right hand, a combat knife. He swung it just as a clawed hand swiped through the air. Having predicted that the creature would have jumped off the shield to Shane’s back and attack from behind, Shane had been confident in his next move. He switched his grip on the combat knife in mid-swing and grabbed it in a reverse-grip, and plunged the blade right through the monster’s palm as it slashed by.

A long and mournful howl ripped through the air but there was no sympathy for the hybrid monster. While the creature reeled from the blow, Shane took one step forward and threw out an uppercut at the monster. The supercharged uppercut lifted the creature entirely off its feet into the air where it hung there for a second at the peak of its rise, allowing Shane to immediately follow it up with a leaping roundhouse kick. Ultimately, it sent the creature flying straight into the walls of the arena, smashing right through the wall, and landing in the spectator stands. At that very moment, something flitted over his head and Shane turned around to see that it was Beira. But behind her, followed another hybrid-like creature similar to the one that Shane had just fought off. This time, a two-headed one.

The creature attacked ferociously and wildly, swinging the large club in its hand through the air, creating a whoosh with each swing and Shane was forced to defend against it with his shield. A loud boom reverberated every time shield and club met, with Shane slowly retreating until he reached Beira.

“That one by the stands. I managed to injure it. Make sure you take it out. I’ll take of Clubs here,” Shane quickly instructed, extending his right arm towards the stirring hybrid as it began to shake the rubble off its body. Not only were they strong, they were hardy as well. When the next swing arrived, Shane angled his shield so that he could strike with the edge and punched upwards, knocking the club off course. The creature stumbled slightly as it tried to rein in the sudden change of momentum but Shane was faster.

Pulling back his right arm, Shane pushed it out equally speedy and slammed his palm into the creature’s chest, releasing the pent-up strength. The creature stumbled backwards a few steps but Shane wasn’t done. The Rune Knight released his grip on his shield and attached it to his back, leaving his hands free as he began his assault.

The moves that Shane had chosen flowed seamlessly into one another, first chasing after the creature with a well-placed lunging knee strike towards the creature’s chest again. Normally it would have sent his opponent flying but before that could happen, Shane had already caught a hold of the creature, grabbing it by the neck and single-handedly lifting the monster off the ground and swung it overhead before slamming it into the ground. The impact formed a mini-crater where the two stood and the dust on the ground around them was blown up into the air.

When the creature, hardy as it was, tried to get back up on its feet, Shane was already waiting. He held both arms up above his head and locked his fingers together to let it descent as a double-fist punch, hammering the monster in the head. The creature was pummeled to its knees and as it swayed about in a daze, Shane pulled back both arms and then send them forward with a bone-crushing double palm thrust. It was aimed again at the creature’s chest, and this time, the very obvious cracks of ribs breaking under pressure could be heard. The creature was thrown backwards and landed in a heap, relentlessly coughing up blood as it tried to stand back up.

Shane watched, and it actually managed to slowly got one knee. But the grim expression on the Rune Knight’s face said everything. His left hand reached over his shoulder to pull his shield from the harness and with a powerful swing of his arm, sent the circular shield slicing through the air and colliding with the creature’s head and rebounded back in his direction. The creature, finally defeated, collapsed to the dusty ground just as the shield returned to Shane’s hand.

[1284 words]
[Total WC: 14793 / 14000]

Despite the fact that the God Slayer had quickly managed to adapt to the attack of the giant brute and correct her fall, Beira knew she didn't have too long to recuperate and lick her wounds, as the two-headed monstrosity was on her tail, leaping out after her with the intention of turning her into some bloody jelly or some such unpleasant sounding thing. While she was planning on how to prevent her life from getting the adjective 'brief' affixed to it, the Utgardian realized that the ettin seemed to be swinging its club a bit too early if it was actually more interested in smashing her to bits.

Beira was glad to see that it was the Rune Knight that had caught the ettin's attention. As the creature swung repeatedly, the man deflected its blows with his shield, stepping back until he was practically beside her. Frankly, Beira was more than grateful to see that he had come to her aid, although the streak of pride that had been deeply ingrained in her by countless days of Utgardian court grooming didn't allow her to give any indication that she had been hoping the knight would show up. "You do know how to keep a girl waiting," she intoned, though the relief was still quite evident in the ice mage's tone of voice.

Rest wasn't still on the agenda yet, as Shane pointed out that the werewolf he'd been fighting still needed a terminal conclusion. At least he had weathered the creature, so Beira wouldn't be fighting it at its full strength. "Well, aren't you ever the gentleman?" she asked, as she turned her attention to meet the lycanthrope. While a part of her hoped deep down that she wouldn't be too weak to take on the wolf-man, despite Shane's input, Beira decided to test herself and see whether she was worthy to call herself a warrior, or she deserved to have her forebears laugh at her, wherever they were. She could have attacked immediately while the creature was still getting out of the rubble, but Beira simply walked until she had interposed herself between the creature and Shane, who was going at it with the ettin. A three-foot staff of nether rime formed in her right hand as she waited.

"Here, doggy doggy," Beira muttered, as the creature leaped out of the rubble and charged her. Okay, it wasn't a doggy, at least, not from the legs downward. It slashed at her with the claws on one hand, but Beira, having anticipated that, had stepped out of the way. Of course, she had moved into the attack space of its other hand, and it would have made another attack, if its hand had not been wounded, something the God Slayer had taken note of. The only other option would be to kick her, which it decided to attempt, but too late. While the creature was shifting its weight to gain enough balance to kick at her with its talons, the short staff in Beira's hand gained a large round head, which was summarily smashed into the side of the hybrid creature's head. The blow threw it off balance, and as the creature tottered, Beira spun the staff, as a spike formed at the other end of the weapon, and drove the spear into the creature's head. If there was anything Beira was taught about killing, it had to be swift, for allowing one's opponent to suffer before dying was needless, but brutal, to pass across a message to potential enemies watching.

As the creature's lifeless body twitched on the sands, Beira noticed that a good number of the patrons were still watching from the stands, and gathered her strength for one final spell. Then she called out a single word in a strange, ominous language. The area seemed to darken, as a strange dark mist seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Then, except Shane and the captured unwilling combatants of the Ring of Blood, who were lying about on the arena floor, quite alive but in varying degrees of pain, everyone else in the arena within seventy five feet of the Utgardian died. Suddenly. Including the two remaining Fioreans in the VIP booth. That seemed to be all for the day's work.

Reaching into the Librarium with her mind, Beira retrieved the two frozen statues of Amar and his companion who had faced her earlier in the arena. The dark purple ice melted, and the young men collapsed, shivering. Amar looked up at the God Slayer, confusion and fear on his face. "Who are you?" he asked. Beira smiled by way of reply and shrugged. "Your guardian angel maybe...." Other prisoners of the Ring were beginning to rise to their feet, almost fearing to hope that their release was at hand. "I'm sure you all can find your way out of this place," the God Slayer said with a languid yawn, stretching herself with an apparently nonchalant expression on her face. "Now if you don't need any more babysitting, a girl has got a bath to take."


WC: 848 words
Total: 15641/16000

Shane watched his partner fight off the already injured hybrid creature with her ice magic. As she used her magic, the Rune Knight could feel his very own magic energy within react to it, drawing a frown on his face. He knew that it was his recently obtained God Slayer magic that had responded. However what he wanted to know was where did she obtain the magic from. Having fought so many opponents over the years, Shane understood that gaining the power to kill gods created its own circumstances for each holder of said magic. In fact, he himself was blessed with the opportunity to wield Demon Slayer magic once and now cursed with God Slayer magic.

When Beira was finally done with the battle, he followed her gaze. She was looking at the audience seated in the arena despite the havoc that had befell this place. He could tell that they were all riled up, not from the chaos in the arena but rather, they were wildly excited by the carnage. Shane could only sigh, knowing that if he wanted to stop the Ring of Blood from happening again, he would have lots of blood on his hands.

But Beira was quicker. Catching him off guard, the female warrior spoke a word in an alien language and immediately, every single life in the arena, save for the two of them, was instantly extinguished. The spectators collapsed in their seats or to the ground as though they were puppets cut loose. The struggling combatants on the ground just slumped and ate dirt.

What happened next Shane couldn't be bothered. What had shocked him was the girl's lack of hesitation in taking lives, as wretched as those lives could be. Even Shane couldn't say the same for himself, despite his job requiring to take lives. He would kill, and he would feel the remorse, knowing that he was gradually growing numb towards the sanctity of life.

But this girl had breached that line and never even bat an eyelid. Shane could only shake his head.

"We will meet again if there's ever a chance," the Rune Knight said with a somber voice before disappearing. There would be no signs of his involvement in this entire event, as he intended it to be.

[381 words]
[Total WC: 16022 / 16000]