Pain was an ocean, and Kairan was drowning in it.
Every breath felt like inhaling hot, broken glass that tore at his lungs. The skin on his arms and back screamed, the burns from the twins' fire sending unending waves of agony. He could feel warm, sticky blood flowing from at least three different wounds, soaking the sand beneath his trembling feet. The world around him blurred, the sound of the cheering crowd and the approaching growl merging into a sickening drone in his ears.
His body, already at its limit, was now begging to give up. His muscles trembled violently, threatening to make him collapse. It would be so easy to fall, to let the darkness swallow him, to end this suffering.
But in the midst of that ocean of pain, one thing anchored his consciousness. One focal point that burned brighter than the pain itself.
The eyes of Lord Valerius.
He saw them clearly from across the arena. Cold, arrogant eyes that looked at him not as an opponent, but as an object of entertainment. The eyes of a bored lord who found pleasure in the suffering of others. In those eyes, Kairan didn't just see cruelty. He saw the symbol of everything he hated: a system that granted limitless power to those born with a gift, while those born with nothing were considered no more than insects to be crushed at any moment.
Anger—cold, sharp, and pure—cut through the fog of his pain. That anger became a new spine for his bones that felt ready to crumble. He forced himself to stand upright, every inch of movement a struggle against his own body's will.
The creaking iron gate and the intensifying growl barely registered in his mind. He didn't care. Because with his 'Resonance Sight,' he had already seen the real enemy.
The beast that stepped out of the darkness was a storm of energy. Kairan's 'Resonance Sight' showed a chaotic red aura, swirling around the Gravemaw's body like a fiery vortex. There was no clear pattern, no structure to be read. Only pure rage and killing intent. Torvek was right; a beast's magic was too wild to predict. Fighting it directly in his current state was impossible.
However, that was not Kairan's focus.
He saw something else. Something more subtle. A thin, almost invisible thread of red magic, stretching from the Blood Sigil on Lord Valerius's neck, across the arena, and embedding itself at the base of the Gravemaw's skull. The thread pulsed in the same rhythm as the lord's satisfied smile.
Kairan understood now. The beast wasn't just an angry pet. It was a puppet. An extension of Valerius's will. The lord's magic didn't control its every move, but it injected rage, suppressed fear, and sharpened its killing instincts.
The beast was his sword. And Valerius was the hand that swung it.
The Gravemaw let out a deafening roar and began to charge. The ground trembled under its heavy footsteps. Its massive size made it look like a moving wall of flesh and claws.
Kairan, still staring straight at the balcony, finally moved at the last second. He didn't jump aside. Instead, he took a staggering step forward, twisting his stiff body. The Gravemaw's sharp claws tore through the air where he had just stood, so close he could feel the wind on his wounded cheek.
He staggered, nearly falling, but managed to keep his balance.
On his balcony, Valerius's smile faded slightly, replaced by a frown of curiosity. Luck? Or something else? That's what Valerius thought.
The Gravemaw turned, frustrated that its attack had missed. It growled and attacked again, this time with a sweeping motion using its thick tail.
Again, Kairan waited until the last moment. He didn't have the strength for a large evasion. So, he did the only thing he could. He dropped to the filthy ground, letting the stone-hard tail pass over his head. Dust and sand flew up, covering his body.
He rose with difficulty, coughing up blood. Two attacks. Two near-deaths. He wouldn't survive a third if this continued.
A plan began to form in his mind, born of desperation and burning anger. A crazy plan. A plan that might kill him. But if he had to die in this arena, he would not die as a lord's entertainment.
He wouldn't fight the beast. He would fight the puppeteer.
Ignoring the burning pain in every joint, Kairan started to run. Not away from the Gravemaw, but in an arc, circling the beast. His goal was simple: to place the Gravemaw's large body between himself and Lord Valerius's balcony.
Valerius, seeing the strange movement, narrowed his eyes. What was this cockroach trying to do?
The Gravemaw, seeing its prey on the move, charged again. This time Kairan didn't dodge. He kept running, forcing his injured legs to move faster. As the beast drew near, he leaped towards a broken stone pillar near the arena wall, using his remaining strength to climb a few meters up.
The beast slammed into the pillar with full force. Stones crumbled, and Kairan nearly lost his footing.
But now, he was in the position he wanted. The pillar, and the growling body of the Gravemaw below it, blocked Valerius's direct line of sight.
For a moment, the red thread of magic connecting the lord and the beast became taut and slightly distorted.
Kairan knew he only had a few seconds. He looked down at the beast trying to climb the pillar with its claws. Then, he looked at Lord Valerius, who was now standing from his seat, his expression no longer amused, but filled with cold analysis.
Amidst the echo of the predator below, Kairan found his focus. This fight wasn't about survival. It was about flipping the game board.
His trembling hand grabbed a sharp piece of stone from the shattered pillar. Blood and sweat made his grip slippery, but his will was as hard as steel. Ignoring the roaring Gravemaw below, he stared straight across the arena, towards the balcony where Lord Valerius stood with his calm yet arrogant smile. He couldn't reach the lord. But the red thread of magic connecting them... that was his target. With his last ounce of strength, he threw the stone. Not at the beast, but into the empty air between them, aiming for an invisible point only he could see. The point where the magic thread was most vulnerable.