The metallic cell doors creaked open with a shrill groan.
A guard slammed his baton against the wall and shouted:
"Fight time, worms! Pick your weapons and pray you don't die too quickly!"
Darius and Rygar were led down a narrow corridor into an armory room where various weapons rested on stone racks.
Spears, swords, axes, shields… all crude, crafted more for spectacle than for efficiency—but sharp enough, and that was what mattered.
Darius calmly walked up to a short sword with a silver blade and a dark hilt, balanced enough for quick movements.
He also grabbed a simple dagger and tucked it into his belt.
Beside it, he picked up a circular metal shield reinforced with basic runic alloys. He twisted his wrist, feeling the weight. The weapon was acceptable—that was enough.
Rygar, meanwhile, went straight for a long spear with a triple blade at the tip, almost like fused trident teeth.
He held it in one hand, testing the weight, then spun it in the air with an agile flourish.
"Old companion…" he muttered, satisfied.
The doors opened, revealing a narrow staircase leading to the arena.
As they climbed, the sound of the crowd grew—shouts, bets, insults, and the growling of something… not human.
They emerged into the arena.
A coliseum, yes, but much smaller.
The structure was made of dark stone, raised in circular tiers, with stands full of spectators dressed in heavy clothing, cloaks, runic adornments, and eyes hungry for blood.
Holograms hovered in the air, broadcasting the fight to the rest of the planet. At the center, the floor was dusty, stained with dried red, cracked from countless battles.
Darius kept his shield raised, eyes focused.
Rygar cracked his neck.
"Well… we're not dying today, right?"
Across the arena, a titanium grate began to rise slowly.
A sound echoed from within the darkness… a hoarse, deep, almost metallic roar.
Darius stepped forward.
The creature that emerged was something no book from old Earth could have ever described.
It was quadrupedal, but its skin looked like black obsidian scales, moving as if breathing.
Its claws were twice the size of short swords—three on each paw, curved, sharp, and pulsing with red energy.
The head was low, protected by a bony crest, and its mouth opened in three lateral jaws, like the petals of a monstrous flower, filled with pointed teeth that clinked together.
Two tails slithered behind the beast, each ending in a blade-like tip.
But the worst were the eyes: six glowing blue orbs locked on Darius and Rygar—unblinking, hungry.
A name boomed over the loudspeakers, shouted with pomp by the announcer, followed by wild screams:
"Behold… the IRON DEVOURER!"
The creature slammed its claws into the ground, opening craters with sheer impact.
Rygar stepped up beside Darius.
"Hope you know how to use that shield… 'cause this thing's going for our heads the moment we blink."
Darius tightened his grip on the sword and murmured:
"Let it try."
The trumpet sounded.
The fight began.
The Iron Devourer unleashed a monstrous roar, its three jaws opening in sync, exhaling a wave of heat that distorted the air in front of it.
With a snap, it charged.
The arena shook under the impact of its paws.
Rygar stepped forward, ready to face the beast, but Darius's hand stopped him at the shoulder.
His eyes were fixed on the monster—calm, yet burning with the intensity of a blade about to be drawn.
"Stay out of this. I've got it."
Rygar frowned, surprised—but something in Darius's tone, something that didn't sound like arrogance but pure conviction, made him step back.
The crowd went wild.
"HE'S GONNA FIGHT ALONE?!"
"THIS KID'S CRAZY?!"
"I'M BETTING ON HIM!!"
The Devourer charged like a living avalanche, claws dragging sparks from the dry earth, tails whipping through the air.
Darius didn't flinch—time seemed to slow in his mind.
He bent his knees, shield up, blade poised.
BOOM!
The impact hit like thunder.
Darius spun at the last second, dodging the main claw and using the shield to redirect the beast's weight.
The shield's edge scraped one of its front legs, making the creature stagger—surprised by the calculated strike.
Darius seized the moment.
He slid along the creature's flank, crouched low, and slashed upward along its side—sparks flew from the scales, and dark fluid sprayed out.
The Devourer roared and whipped its tail.
Darius dropped to the ground, the tail blade slicing a hair's breadth above his head.
He rolled beneath the beast, rose behind it, and drove his sword between the joints of its rear right leg.
The blade pierced with a dry crack.
The creature staggered.
But it turned in fury, all three jaws opening to swallow Darius whole.
Darius raised his shield at the last second—the jaws clamped shut with a deafening clang, swallowing the entire shield.
But that's what he wanted.
Darius yanked the sword upward and, with his free hand, drew the backup dagger from his belt.
With an agile leap, he climbed the beast's snout, used the skull's base as leverage, and jumped onto the top of the creature's head.
Mid-air, he twisted and drove the dagger into the base of the skull—where the scales were thinner.
The beast screamed. Trembled.
And collapsed.
Rygar watched in silence, unsure whether to cheer… or fear.
Darius landed in a roll, hand drenched in the creature's black blood.
The arena fell silent for a moment.
Then erupted.
"UNBELIEVABLE!"
"THE KID TOOK DOWN THE DEVOURER!!"
High in the stands, Astian Harok—the Lion of Arkhad—grinned as if he'd just found a living gold mine.
Below, Darius wiped the blade on the fallen beast's body, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
He didn't look at the crowd. Or at Rygar.
He simply walked forward.
As if this was only the beginning.