---
Ayan wiped the blood from his mouth and grinned, teeth red. "You think fists are enough in Emberfall city, feeder?"
Zephyr stepped back. "You summoned a beast in the Rank Hall?"
Star moved before Zephyr even gave a command. The young drake’s nostrils flared, firelight dancing in his eyes. Bandaged or not, he hissed loud enough to rattle glass, wings flaring with slow menace.
Star placed himself between Zephyr and the leopard, hackles raised. The floor trembled faintly beneath his paws.
The crowd began backing up, the playful jeering now twisted into nervous murmurs.
"Oh crap. That thing’s gonna torch the whole hall—"
"Shadow magic and fire? Get a shield mage, now—! That tiny Hollowback’s fire is strong."
Then came the shrill call of whistles.
Arena guards flooded the Hall like tidewater, twelve men in crimson-plated armor bearing halberds and mana-seals. One barked a command, and light burst from runes inscribed on the floor, shimmering aether-net barriers slammed into place between the beasts.
"Enough!" barked the lead guard, a hawk-nosed woman with arena crest armor. "Fighting outside the pit is forbidden!"
Both beasts froze, locked in a primal standoff. Star’s jaws glowing faintly, smoke curling from his nostrils; the shadow leopard pacing in eerie circles, its form flickering at the edges like it might vanish at any moment.
Zephyr stood panting, the taste of blood and smoke in his mouth, his fist throbbing with every heartbeat.
"Touch her and you’ll beg for the pit," Zephyr said. His voice was quiet, no shouting needed. It was low. Ground glass wrapped in heat. Honest hate.
Ayan wiped the blood from his lip, emerald eyes glittering like a predator denied a meal.
"You’re dead, feeder," he snarled. "Dead. I will kill you."
Guards shoved him back toward the medic bay. A robed healer trailed behind with a gauze roll already unwinding.
Another trio of guards herded Zephyr the other way, one giving him a sideways look and muttering, "Dumb or brave. Not sure which."
Spectators erupted again, laughter and coin flying as new odds were chalked onto betting slates: Will Zephyr survive a week? 10:1. Will Ayan challenge him in the next round? 2:1.
Arlen met Zephyr at the rear gate, face pale but glowing with both worry and pride. He came looking for him because Fenna asked him. When she woke up she didn’t find Zephyr or Star. So, asked her uncle.
"You just kicked a hornet’s nest the size of a war wagon, lad," he whispered, slapping Zephyr’s shoulder. "But stars bless me, that was glorious."
Fenna burst into the corridor seconds later, braid flying. She saw the blood on Zephyr’s knuckles, his face swollen, and went still.
"He came again?" she asked quietly.
Zephyr nodded.
Fenna’s expression turned to ice. "Next time, don’t go wandering alone. I will cut his hands, how dare he put his hands on you."
Zephyr didn’t laugh. Didn’t smile. He just looked at her, and for a heartbeat, the fire in his chest eased.
Star slumped beside him, exhausted but proud.
The guards let them pass without a word, and they walked through the crowd now parting before them.
Because now Zephyr wasn’t just a newbie anymore. He had a rank. He had blood on his knuckles. He had enemies. But more than that... He had a name.
Outside the arena, the wind of Emberfall city’s forge tier carried the scent of scorched metal and old sweat. The clamor from the pit faded into distant clangs and hoarse chants, but Zephyr barely heard it, his thoughts a storm of heat and steel.
Fenna was waiting for an answer. She hadn’t talked to him for a few minutes. She gave him a cold attitude. She walked ahead of him without looking back. Alren stayed behind to handle the situation. He talked with the arena guard and told them to go back.
The moment he crossed the stone arch, she stopped and turned back. "What happened?" Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly, her voice already trembling with worry. "Why did you come to the arena without saying a word? Did you know how worried I was when I woke up? You and Star both are gone... I was so scared."
Her eyes flicked from up to down to his swollen face then the bloody knuckles, raw and smeared with blood. Her voice sharpened. "Zephyr... why are you behaving like a reckless person? You always had a calm mind. You planned, calculated, waited. What happened to that Zephyr? Last night, you talked so wisely, but today..."
Zephyr’s chest rose and fell once then twice. He wanted to look away but held her gaze. His jaw tightened, his fists clenched again despite the pain.
"Settled a debt," he muttered, the words scraped raw. "I started a war. It’s nothing more. By the way, I became a ranked tamer of the arena. Now I can earn money faster and buy resources from the arena shop."
Fenna’s brows drew together in confusion. "That doesn’t mean anything. What debt? What war?" She ignored the raking. She wanted to know what debt he was talking about.
But Zephyr didn’t elaborate. He couldn’t. The image of Ayan’s sick smile, the venom in his whisper—"Send her to my chambers"—was seared behind his eyelids. No. She didn’t need to carry that weight. She didn’t need to feel unsafe in this city because of him.
He forced a breath. "It’s just tamer politics. I needed to prove I belong on the board. I can buy resources from the arena shop."
Fenna didn’t seem satisfied, but she didn’t push further. Instead, her eyes softened slightly. "Your hands..." She reached up, gently brushing his fingers, careful not to press against the raw scrapes. "Did he say something extreme to you? Why did you fight with that rude guy?"
Zephyr shook his head. "It doesn’t matter." He handed Star to her to distract her. "Star needs some of your medicine."
Behind them, the arena’s old stone walls trembled faintly with the sound of movement, gurneys clattering, whispers echoing.