Chapter 9 – Blood on the Sands, Fire in the Cells
The chains bit into Kael's wrists as he was marched up the narrow stone corridor, along with a handful of other battered prisoners.
The arena gates yawned open ahead, sunlight spilling onto the blood-stained sand.
His body ached from bruises old and new, but the Sovereign Core pulsed within him — steady, relentless.
> [Strength +2 | Dexterity +1] [Skill Progression: Combat Awareness Lv.2 — Threat Response Improved]
Kael's lips curled into a grim smile.
Pain was irrelevant.
Only survival mattered.
The guards shoved them through the gate. The roar of the crowd hit like a hammer — nobles cheering, peasants jeering, the stench of wine and blood thick in the air.
Across the arena, their opponents emerged: five armored bounty hunters, gleaming steel in their hands, murder in their eyes.
Real killers.
No crude prisoners this time.
A true test.
The horn sounded.
Kael surged forward, instincts honed to a razor's edge.
The first bounty hunter, a brute wielding a hammer, roared and swung.
Kael slid beneath the blow like water, driving a salvaged dagger deep into the man's thigh.
The brute howled and staggered.
Kael snatched up the fallen hammer and caved in his skull with a sickening crunch.
One down.
A second bounty hunter slashed at him — Kael twisted away, the sword grazing his ribs — pain flaring — but he barely flinched.
Another prisoner screamed as his throat was cut.
Kael didn't slow.
He ducked low, tackled another bounty hunter, and rammed his dagger under the man's chin, up into his brain.
Blood sprayed over the sand.
The Core inside him throbbed with pleasure.
> [Quest Progress: 2/5 Kills]
But the bounty hunters were pressing hard — disciplined, ruthless.
Kael snarled, seized a dropped shield, and fought like a cornered beast.
A broken blade flashed — Kael parried with the shield, countered with a brutal headbutt.
Bone shattered.
Kael drove his dagger into the hunter's gut — once, twice, thrice — until he fell twitching.
Three down.
The last two hesitated now, wary.
The surviving prisoners rallied behind Kael, emboldened by his ferocity.
Together, they closed in, overwhelming the last bounty hunters in a flurry of desperate strikes.
When it was done, Kael stood amidst corpses, chest heaving, blood dripping from his fingers.
The crowd roared in approval.
Somewhere high above, the nobles debated his fate.
The guards moved to haul the survivors back to the dungeons — but even as they were dragged away, Kael sensed a shift in the air.
Chaos.
It started subtly — sharp commands barked down the corridor, the clatter of armored boots.
Kael caught snatches of frantic conversation:
"The Slavemaster's woman — missing!"
"Selene — gone from her cage!"
"Find her! Tear the cells apart!"
The prisoners were hurriedly shoved into a holding pen, but the usual discipline was breaking down.
Guards shouted over one another. Some ran back toward the lower cells, others toward the upper quarters. No one was watching the prisoners properly.
Kael's mind raced.
Selene.
They had discovered her absence — but not why.
The Core pulsed a simple, savage command:
> [Opportunity: Escape] [Condition: Seize Control in the Chaos]
Kael flexed his blood-slicked hands.
The guards were distracted.
The Arena's slave master was panicking.
The entire dungeon would soon descend into madness.
Beside him, the other survivors stirred, sensing it too — the crack in the walls of their prison.
Kael moved first.
He lunged, driving his shoulder into a distracted guard's back.
The man stumbled forward, slamming into the iron bars.
Kael seized his key ring before he could cry out, snapped his neck cleanly.
The other prisoners surged to their feet.
Chaos erupted.
Fists flew.
Blades flashed.
Guards fell screaming as prisoners overwhelmed them.
Kael didn't waste time.
He snatched a sword from the fallen guard and sprinted toward the lower cells.
Selene.
Lyria.
Rina.
Talia.
Lira.
They were still back there — chained and helpless.
He tore through corridors splattered with blood, kicking down doors, slashing apart chains.
Selene looked up as he burst into their cell, her eyes widening.
Without a word, Kael shattered her shackles with the stolen sword.
One by one, he freed the others.
Lyria clung to him, her body trembling.
Rina wept with relief.
Talia kissed his bloody hand.
Even Lira — sweet, quiet Lira — threw herself against him, tears in her eyes.
Kael pulled them to their feet.
"Move," he snarled. "Now."
He led them through the back corridors, dodging patrols, slipping through half-open gates.
The Arena's whole security net was collapsing under the weight of its own panic.
Kael moved like a shadow, cutting down any guard foolish enough to cross him.
Finally — blessedly — they reached an old disused sewer gate.
Kael kicked it open.
The fetid stench of the outer city wafted up.
Freedom.
He shoved the women through first, then followed, sword in hand, blood still dripping from his knuckles.
The last thing he heard before slipping into the labyrinthine streets was the alarm bells tolling behind him.
The dungeon had fallen into anarchy.
The Slavemaster would find only corpses and broken chains.
Kael was gone —
And he had taken his spoils with him.