I was just getting ready for my second obstacle course run of the day, stretching my arms and hopping in place to get the blood flowing, when I heard my name echo across the hall. I turned, squinting toward the main entrance. Mahya stood just inside, one hand raised high in a wave, her braids bouncing with the motion.

I waved for her to wait, but she shook her head firmly. “No.”

With a sigh, I motioned for the guy behind me to take my spot in line, then jogged over. “What happened?”

She was already bouncing on her heels. “I found something cool, but we don’t have much time.” Her nose wrinkled as she eyed me up and down. “You have to hurry home to change. You can’t walk around wet with your hair sticking out.”

I glanced down at my soaked clothes. “What did you find?”

“I’ll explain on the way.” She spun around and marched toward the doors, walking fast enough that I had to break into a trot to keep up.

“Where Mahya going?” Rue asked behind me, his massive paws thudding softly against the stone floor.

“I have no idea,” I said, half jogging to keep up with her.

Outside, the air was cooler than I expected. Maya scanned the street, then pointed sharply. Two blocks ahead, a tricycle taxi turned the corner onto a side street.

Without warning, she stuck two fingers in her mouth and unleashed a whistle so piercing, I flinched. One hand went to my ear as I winced and shook it out. “Ow. You trying to deafen me?”

The taxi jerked to a stop, made a U-turn, and rolled toward us. We piled in, Rue taking up most of the back, tongue lolling out.

Inside, I leaned forward. “Now, can you explain?”

“Yes, yes, hold your horses,” she said, her eyes gleaming. “Today is the monthly competition at the Adventurer’s Guild. We have to get there before it starts or they won’t let us in.”

I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“I was told about it today at the guild,” she said, already bouncing with excitement. “Apparently, every month there’s a competition between the top two teams that led the rankings for dungeon clears and mana portals—that’s what they call occurrences here. The winners get the right to be the first to enter any new wild dungeon that spawns that month.”

“I don’t get it.”

She glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “What don’t you get?”

“Why do they have to compete for that?”

She groaned, slapping her forehead. “Because of the bonus of the first clear, duh!”

“But what does it matter if they’re first or second?”

She gave me a look usually reserved for particularly dense children. “The first time you ever clear a dungeon, the reward is better than any other time. Regular first clear gives second-tier loot. After that, it drops. The deeper in, the worse it gets.”

She sat back with a huff and crossed her arms. “Plus, the first clear has the most resources. And if the dungeon’s a dud—bad loot, and no rare resources—they’re allowed to take the core and split the profit with the guild. Fifty-fifty.”

I blinked. “Huh.”

She pointed at me. “So change your shirt. You’re not showing up to the guild looking like a drowned rat.”

When we got home, Mahya stayed in the taxi with Rue, tapping her fingers on the side of the seat while he sprawled across the back, tail thumping against the cushion. I sprinted inside, kicked off my wet shoes halfway through the hallway, and yanked on a dry shirt and fresh pants that didn’t cling like seaweed. Less than two minutes later, I jumped back into the taxi, still towel-drying my hair. Rue sniffed me in approval, then sneezed in my face.

The ride to the guild was a blur of honking horns, fast turns, and Mahya muttering directions to the driver like a general giving battle orders. When we finally rolled up, the guild building rose like something out of a fever dream. Towering domes tiled in sapphire blue, arched bridges crossing over cascading waterfalls, and gilded balconies jutting out from every level. Tall spires reached into the sky, and intricate carvings adorned every column and archway. The marble stairs leading to the main entrance were wide enough for a parade, and everything shimmered like it had been polished that morning. A few people were still outside, milling around in a loose queue, shifting from foot to foot and craning their necks to peer at the gates.

Mahya leaned forward, eyes scanning the group. Then she clapped her hands with a satisfied grin. “Good, we’re not late.”

Inside, two guards stood just past the entrance, decked out in polished breastplates etched with the guild’s emblem—a twisting pattern of blades and mana tendrils. Both of them glanced at us, then did a double-take when they saw Rue. One of them looked him up and down, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Familiar?” he asked, voice clipped.

“Yeah, mine,” I replied, resting a hand on Rue’s shoulder.

The guard jerked his thumb to the left. “There’s a special terrace for Familiars. He won’t be able to sit with you in the regular seats.”

Rue didn’t argue. He tilted his massive head toward the indicated direction, then trotted off with his usual loping gait, tail swishing lazily behind him. I caught a flicker through our bond of curiosity and enthusiasm, like he'd been invited to a party and was already wondering if there’d be snacks.

I watched him vanish down the hallway, ears perked, eyes bright. Hmm. Perhaps I should arrange some playdates for him. Back in Lumis, he had a blast meeting with the other Familiars. Judging by the warm fizz of joy in the bond, he missed that. Yeah. Definitely something to think about.

The main hall of the guild was just as grand as the outside promised. Vaulted ceilings lined with silver-gilded arches, walls carved with scenes of dungeon battles, and a polished marble floor. Glass windows high above let in shafts of sunlight that turned the air golden. The whole place smelled faintly of leather, sweet, and something roasting from the bar on the right.

Mahya walked ahead with purpose, weaving past a few stragglers. We followed a wide corridor that spilled into a massive sunlit courtyard, easily larger than a football stadium. The space stretched so far I couldn’t see the far end without squinting. Grand arched colonnades framed the perimeter, each pillar wide enough to hide three people. Blue and gold canopies stretched between them in sweeping curves, casting dancing shadows across the marble floor. Instead of a few benches, there were hundreds, arranged in levels rising from a colossal central arena. The center was a wide circle filled with pale, fine-grained sand that glimmered under the sun. It looked like a mix between a dueling ring and an ancient coliseum floor, large enough to host an army skirmish or a full-blown tournament.

“There,” Mahya said, pointing at an empty row halfway up. We climbed the steps and slid into place.

I leaned back and looked around. To the right and above, a wide terrace overlooked the courtyard, reserved for Familiars. Most of them were lizards or large cats, lounging in the sun or watching the crowd below with bored eyes. Rue’s head poked out between two of them, his ears up and tail wagging like he was trying to make friends. At the end of the row sat a creature that resembled a fluffy sea lion, covered in thick, ginger fur and blinking slowly in the light. I was very curious to know if the creature had legs, or if it was a sea lion all the way through, but unfortunately, the railing was covered with a thick climbing plant that hid its bottom half. For some strange reason, this question really bothered me. I stood up, trying to see, but to no avail. Mahya gave me a questioning look, but I just shook my head and waved her off.

We had to wait for almost half an hour before it finally started. The sun had shifted just enough to cast long stripes of light across the courtyard floor, and the murmur of the crowd had settled into a low hum of anticipation. Then a man dressed in scuffed leather armor stepped into the center of the arena.

He didn’t waste time with ceremony. With a sweep of one arm, he pointed to the right. “The defending team: Shielders of Fluito.”

A small cheer rose from the crowd on that side, followed by a few claps and the clang of someone tapping their shield on the ground.

Then he turned and pointed to the left. “The challenging team: Lizards of Darkness.”

That side responded louder, with whoops and a few reptilian hisses from the Familiars’ terrace.

Both teams marched out into the arena. This time, I used Identify, wanting to know who was facing whom and what kind of mess they were about to get into.

The Shielders of Fluito team had five people. At the front stood a broad-shouldered man clad in reinforced leather armor with bits of metal worked into the joints and chest. In both hands, he held strange gizmos that could maybe be called shields. The side closest to his body was flat and square, clearly built for blocking. The side facing outward was curved and gleamed faintly in the sun, sharpened like the edge of a blade.

Coobim Sand

Bladeguard Level 49

To the right and a little behind him stood a girl dressed in tight black clothes that clung to her like a second skin, built more for movement than modesty. Although her class read as Archer, Level 41, she wasn’t holding a bow. Instead, she gripped a crossbow in each hand, and not the kind I'd seen before. Under each crossbow was a large drum, like the one I’d seen once on a Tommy gun in an old movie. The stock of bolts curved along the bottom, and even though her arm obscured part of it, I counted twenty-eight. I figured each drum held somewhere between thirty-three and thirty-five bolts.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

On the other side, to the left and behind the guy with the shields, stood a broad man with two swords strapped across his back. His class said he was a Whirlwind Fencer, level 50, but his weapons definitely didn’t look like fencing swords. Instead of being long and narrow, they were long and wide, with a slight curve at the tip that gave them a brutal, chopping look. More like something you'd use to cleave through armor than perform elegant dueling moves.

The second row back contained two people. A tall, thin man stood on one side, wearing a white robe that fluttered slightly in the breeze. A large golden sun was emblazoned on the center of his chest, almost glowing against the pale fabric. Healer of Her Lady Grace, Level 39.

On the other side was a girl with the reddest hair I’d ever seen, like someone had lit a flame and set it dancing on her head. While everyone else looked serious and focused, she smiled at the entire audience, waving like she was greeting old friends at a festival. She was, by far, the smileiest of the group. Her class definitely didn’t match her demeanor. Hexbinder, Level 49.

The Lizards of Darkness team had six people, all spaced out in a loose formation that somehow still felt coordinated. At the front stood a wiry man in dark green armor that looked like it had been woven from leaves, vines, and plated bark. Instead of a helmet, he wore a cowl stitched with feathers, and a pair of twin short spears rested in his hands. Their points shimmered faintly with green. Venom Sentinel,Level 48.

To his right, a woman in bronze armor leaned forward like a runner at the starting line. Her boots had strange extensions at the heels, almost like spring mechanisms, and two short axes hung at her sides. Sparks flickered between her fingers, dancing along the metal. Storm Raider, Level 47.

On the left, a heavily muscled man rested a massive club against his shoulder. It wasn’t spiked or barbed, but a solid hunk of dark stone with runes carved all along the sides. His armor was more fur than metal, and every step made the ground vibrate slightly. Earthbreaker, Level 50.

Behind the front row stood a woman in a deep blue cloak, embroidered with swirling lines that shimmered like ink in water. Her hands were already moving through patterns in the air, and I saw traces of floating script flicker above her palms. Her eyes never stopped scanning the enemy team. Runecaller

, Level 49.

To her left stood a man who looked more like a stage performer than a warrior. Slim, dressed in layered silk in sunset colors, he spun a set of metallic orbs between his fingers like a juggler. The orbs pulsed with faint light, occasionally lifting into the air on their own before settling back into his hands. Illusionist, Level 46.

And finally, at the rear, standing near a planter that had somehow started blooming in her presence, was the healer. Her robes were made of mossy fabric, stitched with bones and beads. She leaned on a crooked wooden staff topped with a small living branch, and a squirrel perched on her shoulder. Druid, Level 44.

“Impressive levels,” I said.

Mahya nodded, but didn’t comment.

The moment the signal horn blared, both teams moved like they’d rehearsed this a hundred times.

"They should go straight for the healers," Mahya said, leaning forward in her seat.

“Hey,” I protested.

She patted my back. “Relax. I’m not telling them to go after you. You win team fights by removing the recovery option.”

They listened to her suggestion.

The Bladeguard charged first, those brutal shield-weapons spinning outward like buzzsaws. At the same time, the girl with the red hair—Hexbinder—stepped into position and flung both hands forward. Her smile was gone now, replaced by an eerie calm. Purple tendrils of shadow burst from her palms, writhing low along the ground toward the enemy Druid.

On the other side, the Runecaller dropped glowing symbols across the arena floor like she was sowing traps. Her teammates vaulted over them with ease. The Earthbreaker roared and slammed his rune-carved club into the stone, sending out a tremor that staggered the Shielders' back line. The healer in white nearly lost his footing.

"That's nasty," I said. “They're going to flatten each other.”

Crossbow bolts whistled through the air from the Archer, landing in rapid succession around the Druid, each one sparking with a dull flash on impact. Explosive tips. But the Druid was fast. Roots burst from the ground and wrapped around her, shielding her with a twisting wall of vines. One bolt got through. She winced, staggered, but didn’t fall. I winced with her and felt her pain.

At the same moment, the Illusionist blurred out of focus and reappeared behind the white-robed healer. He hurled two of his glowing orbs, which exploded in a burst of smoke and color.

The Whirlwind Fencer turned toward it too late, and the Storm Raider shot forward, feet crackling with lightning. Her twin axes glowed bright blue as she aimed straight for the healer.

"She's going to make it!" I said, jumping to my feet, worried. I really didn’t want anything bad to happen to the healers.

But I was wrong.

Just before she connected, the Bladeguard intercepted her with a brutal shoulder bash. One of his shields cracked against her hip, and she tumbled sideways, rolling hard into the ground. I wanted to rush over and help, but Mahya grabbed my arm and pulled me back into my seat. I shot her a nasty look.

"Relax. They have healers," she said.

Then a massive tremor split the floor again. The white-robed healer lost his balance and caught a blast of Rune energy full in the chest. He crumpled, gasping.

I jumped up and almost ran to the arena to help him.

Mahya grabbed my arm and pulled me down again. “Guild healers,” she said, pointing with her other hand.

A pair of healers in red sashes sprinted from the sidelines and lifted him on a stretcher, dragging him off as the crowd murmured in approval.

Almost the same second, the Druid on the other team cried out and collapsed to one knee. Her leafy armor burned at the edges from one of the Hexbinder's curses, still clinging to her back like a brand.

This time I didn’t jump up, but a shiver ran down my body. I didn’t like seeing this and felt empathy pains with everything that was happening below.

The moment recovery was off the table, the tempo changed. The Whirlwind Fencer spun into the Earthbreaker with a pair of wide arcs, blades sparking off the stone club. Runes lit up under their feet, and the entire field turned into a glowing mess of explosions and magic traps. One caught the crossbow-wielding Archer mid-dodge. She hit the ground hard, her shoulder bent at a bad angle.

"She’s done," Mahya whispered.

Again, healers rushed in, and I clenched my fists. The crowd clapped as she was carried out, but it was quieter now.

The Storm Raider got in one more flashy sprint before she took a shield to the ribs that knocked her out cold. The impact made me flinch. Her body skidded a few meters across the sand.

Two healers, one with glowing hands already casting, ran out to haul her away.

The field was thinning fast. No one was holding back anymore. Blades clanged, curses hissed, illusions sparked and blinked out. The audience was half standing now.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “You think they volunteer for this level of damage?”

Mahya didn’t answer right away. Her arms were folded, eyes locked on the fight. “If they’re smart, they did,” she said finally. “You don’t put yourself in a ranked team like this unless you’re sure it’s worth the risk.”

Another crash, another body down. By this point, I was only half-watching, flinching every couple of seconds. My whole body buzzed with phantom pains of sympathy.

And still no one surrendered.

Only three fighters remained on the field. Two from the Shielders of Fluito, one from the Lizards of Darkness.

The Earthbreaker was gone, carried out with a dislocated arm, a broken leg, and a long cut on his stomach. The Illusionist had vanished under a blast of spinning blade energy from the Whirlwind Fencer. The Runecaller was trying to hold the line with a ring of defensive symbols around her, but she was breathing hard and clearly running out of mana.

The Bladeguard stood like a wall in front of her, both shield-weapons raised. His armor was dented, and one of the metal plates on his thigh hung loose, but he was still going strong. Beside him, the Hexbinder girl moved in slow, wide steps, her arms arcing through the air like a conductor as she layered curse after curse on the last enemy standing.

“She’s smart,” Mahya said. “Using debuffs instead of direct damage. Letting him do the heavy hitting.”

The Runecaller tried to fight through it. She threw out a final surge of floating runes, bright blue and white this time, that hovered above her like a crown. Then she screamed something and slammed her hand to the floor.

A pulse of energy exploded outward in a circle.

The Bladeguard took the hit on his shields. He slid back half a step, boots leaving a line in the sand. The redhead didn’t flinch.

Shadow tendrils flared up again and wrapped around the Runecaller’s feet, anchoring her to the spot. She tried to move, but her leg buckled. One arm dropped. The light in her runes flickered.

“That’s it,” Mahya said. “She’s out of mana. Maybe even out of consciousness.”

I remembered the awful headache of being out of mana and shuddered in sympathy. This was not fun.

The Bladeguard didn’t go for a finishing move. He just walked forward, shields at the ready, and the Runecaller slumped to her knees in surrender.

The arena went quiet for a heartbeat. Then the horn sounded again. The crowd erupted. Cheers and applause rolled over the courtyard like thunder. Guild healers ran to the last standing member of the Lizards of Darkness. One helped her up while another gave her a vial of something glowing.

Mahya leaned back, stretching her arms above her head. “Good match.”

I didn’t mention how every injury made me wince. How I wanted to jump down there every time someone fell and heal them, just to stop the pain. Watching people hurt each other for sport didn’t sit right with me.

I watched the victorious team regroup in the center. The redhead was grinning again, waving at the crowd like nothing had happened. The Bladeguard stood quietly beside her, shields still raised like the fight wasn’t over yet.

The applause was still fading when the announcer stepped into the arena again, walking with a mix of pride and showmanship like he was presenting an award at a royal gala instead of a blood-soaked courtyard. He carried a rolled-up scroll tied with a dark green ribbon in both hands.

When he reached the Bladeguard and the red-haired Hexbinder, he gave a respectful nod and extended the scroll. “Victory and honors to the Shielders of Fluito. May your future first-clears be many and profitable.”

The Bladeguard gave a short nod and took the scroll without a word. The Hexbinder smiled and gave a small theatrical bow, her flaming hair falling over one shoulder as she did it. A few more claps followed, but most of the audience had already stood and were filing out. Mahya and I stood too, making our way toward the side entrance that led around the building.

By the time we reached the edge of the inner courtyard, the winning team was already walking out through one of the side gates, their movements slower now. Rue bounded toward them from the Familiar terrace with all the subtlety of a galloping horse, ears perked high and tail wagging like a flag in a storm.

“Red hair girl smile big!” Rue blurted before even reaching us, practically hopping in place. “She curse with purple! Purple like Rue eyes. Like john eyes. Rue like purple. Purple is good. Red girls is good!”

The Hexbinder blinked in surprise. “Uh… thank you?”

Rue turned his head toward the Bladeguard, eyes wide with admiration. “Big shield man bonk fast. Like smash monsters go boom.”

Mahya raised an eyebrow and glanced at me. “He’s been vibrating with excitement through the whole fight.”

“I know,” I said.

Rue wasn’t done. He turned in a little circle, then plopped his rear on the stone and puffed out his chest. “Rue also meet lizard. Lizard smell like sun. Name was… Grrr-ack.” He made a half-cough, half-bark sound. “Good friend. Lick Rue ear.”

The Bladeguard gave the slightest hint of a smile, then turned to leave, the scroll tucked under his arm. The others followed, still quiet.

Rue trotted beside us as we made our way out of the courtyard, tail swaying. “Rue like battle place. Smells like fire, blood, and snack.”

Mahya chuckled and ruffled the fur on top of his head.

I looked back one last time at the arena. The applause. The cheers. The blood on the sand. At that moment, I came to the firm conclusion that gladiatorial matches were not for me.