Crimson Fury.

  One of barbarian’s terrifying passive skills—automatically activated when their HP drops below 10%.

  The moment it triggered, a crimson aura engulfed The Giant’s entire body, fortifying his defense while simultaneously boosting his strength and speed. For a brief but deadly window of time, he was nearly unstoppable.

  And now, that unstoppable force was marching straight toward me.

  My mind raced. Based on my calculations, the effect wouldn’t last much longer—but did I even have that much time? My body was falling apart, my stamina nearly depleted. I tried to think of a strategy, any way to stall him.

  Nothing.

  I had no options left. No way out.

  My fingers trembled as I struggled to lift my arms, but it was pointless. I could only watch as The Giant closed the distance—until I suddenly felt an intense heat surging from behind me.

  WHOOSH!

  "DON’T TOUCH SIR ERYND!"

  A high-pitched voice roared through The Pit.

  I barely had time to react before a massive Fireball—far larger than any I had ever seen—exploded forward, hurtling straight at the Barbarian.

  Sam.

  The Giant instinctively raised his arms, crossing them over his chest. With Crimson Fury still active, a basic Fireball shouldn’t have been a problem for him.

  At least, that’s what he thought.

  BLAAAM!

  A deafening explosion shook the entire arena.

  The crowd erupted into chaos—cheers, gasps, and curses filling the air as The Giant was launched backward, engulfed in a massive sphere of flames. His screams rang through The Pit, agonized and raw, before finally fading into silence.

  When the fire dissipated, his body lay motionless on the ground.

  The match was over.

  A moment of stunned silence followed—then the entire arena exploded with noise.

  Some cheered wildly. Others screamed in frustration, furious at the unexpected outcome.

  And then, the announcer’s voice boomed over the roaring crowd.

  "AND THE WINNERS ARE—OUR NEW CHALLENGERS! THE FLAMESTRIDER AND THE MIGHTY DRUID!"

  ***

  I turned to Sam, but he was in bad shape. His face was pale, drenched in sweat, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He must have poured every last drop of his Mana into that spell. His body was already suffering the consequences.

  Still, despite his condition, he stubbornly crawled toward me, rummaging through my pouch with shaky fingers.

  "Sam, what are you—?"

  Before I could finish, he grabbed a potion, pulled off the cork, and poured it into my mouth.

  The moment I swallowed, he collapsed.

  My chest tightened. Gosh, Sam. Even when he could barely move, he still put me first.

  For a moment, I just lay there, feeling the healing effects spread through my broken body. As soon as I had enough strength, I forced myself to sit up, then grabbed another potion.

  "Here, take this," I muttered, pressing them against Sam’s lips.

  He stirred slightly, barely conscious, but swallowed the potion down.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I pushed myself to my feet. My legs trembled, but I ignored the exhaustion.

  With the last of my strength, I raised my hand high toward the crowd.

  The cheers grew deafening.

  ***

  As we made our way to The Pit, I pried as much information as I could from Luther—how the place operated, the security inside, and most importantly, the strongest fighters in the arena. Fortunately, Luther seemed to know quite a bit. Apparently, he had once fought there himself before managing to escape.

  From what he told me, I could estimate the power levels of the top fighters and formulate strategies to defeat each of them.

  That was why I had the confidence to make a bet with Borvan.

  “Sir Erynd… when are they going to let us go?” Sam’s voice trembled as he asked.

  After the match, we had been thrown back into this cold, damp room, our ankles shackled once more. It was already nine in the morning, and the guards had yet to show themselves. Worse, our last meal had been the dinner before the fight.

  I banged on the iron door again—who knew how many times I had done this already? Silence stretched on, unbroken.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Then, suddenly, the door burst open with a loud clang. A bald, muscle-bound man stepped inside. I recognized him immediately.

  “Master Borvan wants to see you,” he grunted, unlocking our chains.

  Without a word, we followed him down the dimly lit corridor, until we arrived at the chamber of the revoltingly obese man known as Master Borvan.

  “MUAHAHAHA! Look at my little champions!” Borvan bellowed, spreading his arms wide in mock celebration. “Here, have a treat.”

  With a flick of his fat fingers, he tossed a half-gnawed chicken bone at our feet. His table was still overflowing with untouched food, which he continued to stuff into his mouth, grease dripping from his chin.

  I said nothing, merely standing there with poker face, waiting. Sam shrank behind me, clinging to my sleeve.

  At last, Borvan wiped his greasy fingers on his shirt and leaned forward, his grin widening.

  “What a marvelous show you put on last night. The crowd loved you—no, they worshipped you! HAHAHAHA! I’ve prepared a contract for the two of you.”

  A contract? I barely concealed my disgust.

  Instead of answering, I crossed my arms and said coldly, “Before we talk about that, pay me my 10,000 Mana Stones.”

  Borvan chuckled, shaking his head. “Ho ho ho… about that. You see, there are certain administrative fees for fighting in The Pit—plus, the food we so generously provided, and the cost of your accommodations. Unfortunately… it seems there’s nothing left.”

  I didn’t react. Instead, I merely raised my staff.

  A deep, guttural growl rumbled through the room.

  In an instant, Gorgroth materialized behind Borvan, his enormous jaws hovering just above the man’s bald, sweaty head. Thick drool dripped onto Borvan’s scalp.

  Borvan went rigid.

  “Tell your guards to step away,” I said softly, my voice devoid of emotion. “If you or your men try anything funny, you won’t have a head left to laugh with.”

  The guards hesitated—then scurried to the corners of the room, abandoning the door.

  “Good.” I nodded. “Now, let’s continue our negotiation.”

  Borvan gulped. “A-a-alright! Here—10,000 Mana Stones!” He fumbled with his desk drawer, pulling out a huge stone and tossing it toward me.

  I caught it, then smirked. “20,000.”

  Borvan blinked. “What?!”

  “That’s the price for trying to cheat me.”

  His mouth opened to protest, but then a thick glob of Gorgroth’s saliva plopped onto his forehead.

  “O-okay! Here! Take it!” He hurriedly produced another one.

  I weighed it in my palm. “Hmm… make that 25,000. Your yelling just ruined my mood.”

  Borvan turned red but bit his tongue, shoving more Mana Stones at me.

  “Oh, and another 5,000 for the chicken bone you threw at us.”

  Borvan’s lips trembled, his hands clenching into fists.

  “Another 150,000,” I continued, my tone casual, “for what you did to this boy’s mother. And an additional 70,000 for kidnapping him.”

  Borvan let out a choked wheeze.

  Meanwhile, Gorgroth’s jaws tightened ever so slightly. Blood began trickling down Borvan’s scalp.

  “A-alright! 239,000 Mana Stones! That’s all I have!” Borvan wailed. “Just—just tell your plant to let go!”

  I took my time counting the Mana Stones, then looked at him impassively.

  “I’ll release him,” I said, “once I’m out of this filthy place.”

  With that, I turned and strode toward the exit, Sam hurrying at my side. The corridors were already burned into my memory.

  We were getting out of here.

  ***

  After a long and winding journey, we finally emerged into the light of day. The warmth of the sun kissed my skin, a stark contrast to the cold, suffocating darkness we had left behind.

  “You’re amazing, Sir Erynd!” Sam blurted out, breaking the long silence. His voice was filled with relief, but also lingering fear.

  I glanced at him. He had been on edge the entire way, constantly looking over his shoulder, expecting pursuers. But no one came. I had made sure of that—the door was locked from the outside. It would take them some time to break free. By then, we’d be long gone.

  Fortunately, the guards outside didn’t stop us. They had no idea what had just happened inside. And why would they? We were the champions of The Pit—exactly the kind of people who walked out of there like we owned the place.

  “Hopefully, we never have to see that fat man again,” Sam said, his face scrunching up in disgust. His innocence was almost endearing.

  Of course we wouldn’t be seeing Borvan again. Even if we wanted to. But I didn’t say anything. No point in burdening him with the details.

  We quickened our pace toward Sam’s house.

  But when we arrived, an unexpected sight awaited us.

  The broken cabinet had been repaired. The bloodstains that once soaked the wooden floor were scrubbed clean. Even the bedsheets had been replaced—though the dark blotches of dried blood still marred the mattress beneath them.

  And sitting on the bed, waiting for us, was Luther.

  “Sir… Sir Luther?” Sam whispered, eyes wide in disbelief.

  Luther immediately stood and pulled Sam into a tight embrace. His voice trembled as he spoke. “T-thanks God you’re safe, Samus.”

  He then turned his gaze to me, his lips curling into a knowing smile. “I knew you’d pull it off, City Boy.”

  I raised an eyebrow at the nickname but didn’t comment.

  Luther sighed and gestured around the room. “I did what I could to clean up this place… and your mother.” His voice grew quieter. “I’m sorry, but I had to cremate her. Otherwise, the townspeople would’ve just… dumped her into the river.”

  He handed Sam a clay urn, carefully sealed.

  Sam clutched it to his chest, his small fingers trembling. Silent tears streamed down his face.

  Luther let him grieve for a moment before turning back to me, extending a hand.

  “We haven’t been formally introduced yet,” he said. “Luther Haanz.”

  I clasped his hand firmly. “Eryndor Leafshade. You can call me Erynd. And… thank you. For helping me save Sam.”

  “It’s nothing,” Luther replied with a dismissive wave. “Samus talked about you a lot. Turns out, he wasn’t exaggerating.”

  So, they were close. That explained his determination to help.

  After a pause, Luther added, “This might sound strange, but if you ever need help… come find me.”

  I studied him for a moment.

  Then, an idea sparked in my mind.

  “As a matter of fact… I could use your help right now.”

  Luther tilted his head, intrigued.

  “But before we talk about that,” I continued, “we’re heading to the city center. Pack only what’s most valuable to you. We leave immediately.”

  you’re going? You can’t just leave us stranded in the Eastern District like this!

  For real?

  so packed and ready.