Shenzah moves like a boulder rolling downhill
Every step is a deep, rolling thump I feel in my spine. His double tails sway behind us, each almost twice the length of his body, ending in barbed metal tips that glint in the desert sun. Up close, the resemblance to an Earth aardwolf is basically just “striped desert hyena.” Everything else is Nod turned up to eleven—thick muscle, heavy shoulders, long jaws built for crushing bone.
He’s still not sure about me, but he tolerates me for now. That’s progress I guess, but I'm certain that this guy isnt going to be jumping in front of any lazer breath for me any time soon.
Sunhome’s arena rises ahead, carved into the side of a sandstone bluff. From the outside it looks almost modest: a wide, oval structure half-sunk into the earth, banners fluttering from tall poles, the low roar of a crowd already moving in waves across the stone.
The moment we turn toward the lower side passage, the noise shifts. Less cheering, more echoing metal, beast-sounds, the clatter and slam of gates.
The combatant entrance.
Raiya glances back over her shoulder, her veil pinned with sun-etched bronze. “Stay close, your Majesty. The stables beneath the arena are pretty active.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I say, patting Shenzah’s neck. His mane bristles at the change in air, a faint electric tension all around us.
We pass through a thick iron gate that rises on a chain, and the light drops immediately. Torches burn in recessed sconces, heat washing off the stone. The hallway slopes downward in a slow spiral, wide enough for beasts larger than Shenzah to maneuver.
Which is comforting.
In the way that standing in a hangar built for battleships is comforting.
Chat flickers into view at the edge of my vision.
[Sandseer]: oooooh new king in the arena today guys!!
[carapace_kid]: FIGHT PIT FIGHT PIT FIGHT PIT
[VioletVex]: if you die in this place, I might just cry.
“Don’t jinx it, You guys are the ones that pushed for this” I mutter.
The corridor opens into a cavernous chamber, all pillars and pens and scent. Blood, sand, metal, musk. Cages line the outer curve of the room, each reinforced with thick bars and heavy ward-lines etched along the seams. I can feel the hum of the life in this place, containment fields from sun runes layered like nets.
And inside those cages—
Yeah. This isnt the Westminster dog show, thats for certain.
A six-legged thing made of barbed bone and sinew throws itself against a barrier, only to recoil with a yelp as the wards flare. Something with too many eyes and not enough face is curled in another enclosure, gnawing on a chain like it personally offended its ancestors.
Raiya swings down from her Aardwolf in one smooth movement. I dismount after her, landing beside Shenzah and keeping a hand on his flank. His ears pivot constantly, tracking every scrape and growl.
A broad-shouldered man waits near the central post. His hair is shaved at the sides and braided down the back, his armor a patchwork of leathers and scales, each piece clearly taken from something that tried to eat him and failed. A ring of keys hangs at his hip, along with three different knives and a blunt-headed cudgel for emphasis.
“Huntmaster,” Raiya says, bowing her head just enough to be respectful. “This is King Kyris of the Dominion.”
His gaze rakes over me, then Shenzah, then back again. Not hostile, just… measuring.
“So this is the Hive King,” he says. His voice is deeper than I expect, almost amused. “Your friend, Our King, has spoken well of you.”
“Thalos exaggerates,” I say. “But I appreciate the introduction.”
He snorts. “He exaggerates about his own strength, not others’. That’s why we like him.”
He gestures around at the cages. “Everything you see here was taken in the wild. My crew hunts them, drags them back, binds them. We don’t break their instincts. That would ruin the fights, and the fun. We just… aim them.”
“Good to know this is a health-and-safety friendly environment,” I say dryly.
Somewhere nearby, something roars. The floor vibrates.
The Huntmaster grins. “You didn’t come here for safety, King Kyris. You came here to make fast money.”
Point taken.
He moves to a heavy wooden stand covered in slates—thin stone tiles, each etched with a name and a sigil. “Here’s how it works. You pick your opponents from the list. We release them into the arena, one bout at a time. You defeat them, you earn coin from me and Faith from the watchers. You can keep the materials from the kill, or sell them back to us—we take a cut for processing, of course. But as a personal ally of King Thalos, your rates will be… favorable.”
The way he says it tells me most warriors don’t get that word.
I step closer to the stand. The names are all in Sunhome script translated by whatever weird Nod filter is running in my head. A blur of strange syllables, half of them meaningless to me.
I recognize exactly zero of the beasts.
Perfect.
[Archivolt]: yesss bounty boards!
[VioletVex]: pick the weirdest ones
[Carapace_kid]: GET A SAND BEAR DO THEY HAVE SAND BEARS!
I slowly drag my hand across the slates, letting instinct pull me.
“Auderm,” I read aloud, fingers resting on the etched symbol of a horn. “Those are…?”
“Desert rhinos,” the Huntmaster says. “Big. Gold hide. Hard to see at distance. Thick armor, bad turning radius.”
“Perfect warmup,” I murmur, and pull that slate aside.
Further down, another name catches my eye.
“Bafkatt.”
The sigil is a jagged line over a tooth.
“River hunters,” he explains. “Crocodilian. Long, fast, live in the oasis areas. Their hides condense ambient charge. They like to roll prey under and shock them until their hearts stop.”
My stomach does a small, unhelpful twist. “Alright. Sounds fun.”
I set that one aside too.
Then my gaze catches on a longer word. Something that feels heavy just to look at.
“Galidichiaus,” I read. The symbol is a towering pillar ringed by four smaller ones, like a family of necks.
The Huntmaster goes very still.
I look up. His eyes are wide for a heartbeat, then narrow with the kind of delight that makes me automatically suspicious.
“You’re sure?” he asks.
I blink. “I mean… yes? I’m picking blind here.”
Raiya shifts slightly behind me, and I feel the tension in the air tick up a notch.
The Huntmaster’s grin spreads, slow and wolfish. “Then today is going to be a very interesting day.”
He plucks the three tiles from the stand and claps a hand on my shoulder with a force that would probably dislocate a normal human.
“Get your beast ready, King Kyris,” he says. “The crowd’s going to remember this one for ages.”
The staging bay just inside the arena floor is a long, open tunnel lit by slatted light from above. The roar of the audience filters in as a constant low thunder. Shenzah paws at the sand, nostrils flaring. His double tails lash slowly behind him.
I check his tack again, more for my own nerves than his. Saddle reinforced, straps tight, nothing loose enough to catch on a horn.
“You alright?” I murmur, scratching behind his ear.
He huffs and leans into the touch in spite of himself.
Chat hums at the edge of my vision.
[VioletVex]: LOOK AT HIM HE’S SO PRETTY
[Sandseer]: shenzah best boy shenzah best boy
[Carapace_kid]: AUDIENCE TO THE HYENA KING
The announcer’s voice booms overhead, magically amplified, dripping with theatrical glee.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF SUNHOME! HUNTERS, FORGERS, AND FRIENDS OF THE SUN—TODAY WE HAVE A SPECIAL GUEST IN THE PIT!”
The crowd roars.
“FROM THE BLACK SAND DOMINION, SLAYER OF DRAGONS, MASTER OF RESONANCE—OUR ALLY, KING KYRIS OF THE HIVE!”
The roar jumps an octave. My name chants in a rhythm I’m not sure I deserve yet.
[LifelineV]: Posting this everywhere—Reddit, Discord, Twitch watch-parties. ‘Kyris is about to throw hands in Sunhome’s arena.’ Eyes incoming in three… two…
Awesome. My very own carnival barker. I watch as my viewer count skyrockets. Damn Vic, I need to just pay you to be my Media Manager.
“Try not to trip on the way out,” I mutter to myself. “People are watching”
The gate in front of us rattles and begins to rise, light spilling under it in a widening band. Heat and sound crash in immediately, like opening a door in a storm.
“Go,” I tell Shenzah.
He surges forward as if he’s been waiting for me to give him permission.
We explode out onto the arena floor into a wash of sunlight. The stands rise high all around, tiers packed with cheering Sunhome citizens. Brass horns blare from the upper ring. Banners wave, each ripple sending glittering dust motes into the air.
The arena itself is a wide oval of compacted sand. No obstacles. No cover. Just open ground and the promise of violence.
“FOR OUR FIRST BOUT,” the announcer calls, “THREE OF THE DESERT’S HARDEST-HITTING HAMMERHEADS! GIVE VOICE TO YOUR COURAGE FOR—THE AUDERMS!”
Gates on the far side slam open.
They come out of their gate like a personified rockslide.
Three Auderms, each the size of an Earth elephant but lower to the ground, long-bodied, with massive shoulders and a single forward-curved horn plated in dull gold. Their skin is a metallic sand-color that shifts with the light, making their outlines blur against the ground. Every step sends a faint tremor through the arena floor.
“Alright,” I breathe, shifting the Chime into its broadheaded spear form. The haft solidifies in my hand, the blade flaring with a low, contained heat. “Let’s make this look good.”
Shenzah doesn’t wait for further instruction. He launches forward, surprisingly nimble for something his size. I lower myself in the saddle, spear angled down.
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The first Auderm snorts, pawing the ground, then charges—a straight-line freight train of muscle and metal, horn aimed at Shenzah’s chest.
“Left!” I snap.
Shenzah veers with a burst of speed that slams me sideways. The Auderm thunders past, missing us by inches, the gust of air off its horn nearly taking my head off.
The crowd screams approval.
I twist in the saddle, letting the momentum carry my spear around in a full arc. As we pass its flank, I drive the blade down with Shenzah’s weight behind it.
Ashwing heat floods my arms.
The point bites through metallic hide like softened bronze. The Auderm bellows, skidding as its front leg buckles. Blood—not red, but a dark molten gold—splashes the sand.
We’re already a dozen yards away as it stumbles.
“Again!” I call, heart pounding.
The three of them regroup, forming a staggered line. Smarter than they look. They try to box us in, driving inward from multiple angles.
“Alright,” I murmur, grin tugging at my mouth. “Let’s dance.”
Shenzah darts between their charges with brutal efficiency, his claws digging into the sand with each sharp pivot. I let myself move with him, using the rhythm of his strides to time my strikes. A spin here, a reversed grip there, the spear becoming an extension of the movement rather than a separate action.
One of the Auderms lunges too far, momentum carrying it past us. I plant a foot on the saddle, push off, and leap—landing hard between its shoulders. The world bucks under me.
The arena loses its mind.
[Carapace_kid]: LET’S GOOO
[VioletVex]: KING. BEHAVING. LIKE. A MAIN CHARACTER.
—TITHE RECEIVED: VioletVex —
The beast throws its head, trying to dislodge me, but I grab its horn with my free hand and haul myself closer to its skull. Its hide is hot and slick, that golden blood seeping from the earlier wound.
“Easy,” I grunt. “Just need you to hold still for one second—”
I raise the spear and drive it straight down, heat pouring out in a focused burst. The tip punches through armored bone. The Auderm’s legs crumble. It crashes to the sand like a falling statue.
I push off and roll, coming up kneeling as Shenzah races past. I grab the saddle horn and swing myself up in one practiced motion, my training and time riding Iskri working to my advantage.
Two left.
The second one charges us in a head-on collision path, eyes blazing.
“Straight,” I tell Shenzah. He obeys, accelerating.
The distance vanishes between us and the Auderm.
“LEAP!”
At the last moment, he springs. We vault over the Auderm’s horn, weightless for a heartbeat. I angle the spear downward and let gravity add its own force.
The blade punches in just behind the skull, dragging down its spine as we sail overhead. Another spray of molten gold, another crash.
We land in a skid. Shenzah recovers in a breath.
The last Auderm hesitates. I can feel its uncertainty from across the arena. The crowd picks up on it too, their cheers shifting in tone, more chant than roar now.
“Let’s finish strong,” I murmur.
We circle. The Auderm tracks us, head low, teeth grinding, torn between fleeing and charging. I raise the spear overhead, letting it catch the sunlight, showy on purpose.
The beast snorts, fury winning over instinct, and barrels at us.
We sprint toward it.
At the last possible instant, Shenzah slams his claws down and slides sideways, a controlled skid that sends up a plume of sand. We drift around the Auderm’s flank like a sled. I spin the spear in a wide, lazy circle—pure spectacle—and then drive it home just at the base of the neck.
The impact reverberates up my arms and across the arena.
The Auderm topples.
Silence, for one crystalline second.
Then the stands explode.
The announcer’s voice booms over it all. “AND THE KING OF THE HIVE PROVES HE CAN DANCE WITH SUNHOME’S HAMMERHEADS! THREE AUDERMS DOWN!”
Shenzah tosses his head, chuffing, clearly pleased with himself. I pat his neck, breathing hard but exhilarated.
Faith pours in like warm static, prickling at the back of my consciousness. Numbers climbing.
“Round one,” I murmur. “Not bad.”
Round two is not so kind.
The arena crew hauls the Auderm bodies away with chains and gantries that swing overhead. The sand is smoothed, fresh layers poured and raked. Shenzah paces near the edge, ears twitching uneasily.
“I don’t like that smell either,” I tell him.
The announcer returns, voice dripping anticipation. “AND NOW, A BEAST FROM THE DEPTHS OF SUNHAVENS RIVERS! THE WHITE THUNDER, THE STORM-TOOTHED DEVOURER—THE BAFKATT!”
The gate opposite our entrance drops.
The change in air is immediate.
It steps out low and sinuous, scales catching the light like polished bone. Fifty feet of muscle and malice, alligator-shaped but leaner, longer. Its hide is pure white, not albino-pale but almost reflective, and the air around it crackles faintly, like the moments before a static shock.
Lightning runs in thin, twitching lines along its back ridges, tracing each plate. Its eyes are pale blue, unfocused in a way that tells me it likely doesn’t need them.
Shenzah stops dead. His mane lifts in a full bristle. A low whine escapes his throat, completely involuntary. Both tails go stiff.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I hear you.”
I swing down from the saddle.
“Stay back,” I tell him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Wall for now.”
He doesn’t need telling twice. He backs toward the arena edge, then turns and bolts for the nearest gate recess, planting himself there like a coiled spring—close enough to intervene if something goes really wrong, far enough not to get roasted by proximity.
[Sandseer]: oh that’s not a good sign
[Archivolt]: if the murder dog doesnt wanna go near it, we are in trouble
[LifelineV]: scales prob have high resist, don’t bother with piercing. go blunt.
“Already there,” I mutter.
The Chime hums in my hand as I shift its form. The spear winks out, the haft shortening, thickening. A moment later I’m holding the Tetsubo—heavy metal club studded with resonance bells, the same configuration that the chime originally takes.
The Bafkatt slithers forward with unsettling speed, movements half-swim, half-crawl. Each step drags claws through the sand in slow, deliberate gouges.
I circle around trying to get its flank.
Up close, I see the problem immediately. Its scales aren’t just armored—they’re ridged and angled, every plate sloped to deflect impact. Spear strikes would slide right off. Blades would skid. There are tiny gaps at the joints, but not enough for a clean shot unless I stun it first.
Lightning arcs lazily between its dorsal spines.
“Alright,” I breathe. “Let’s see how you like head trauma.”
It lunges without warning.
Its jaws snap shut where my torso was a quarter-second earlier. The sound is like a thunderclap, air imploding between its teeth. A ring of static flares out from the impact point, hissing across the sand.
The charge hits my armor and skates off, grounded by Ashwing plating, but if that had been anyone else…
I roll, come up swinging. The Tetsubo connects with its snout, ringing like a gong, the individual bells tolling across the Chime. It recoils, scales crackling brighter now, a snarl rumbling out of that long throat.
“Good,” I say. “I hope you felt that.”
We trade blows. It snaps, the air booms, lightning crawls. I dodge left, then right, learning its rhythm: two short feints, then a full-body lunge; a tail sweep when it’s forced to turn too sharply; a tendency to overcommit when it smells blood.
My strikes bounce off the armored flanks, sparks flying. When I aim for the head ridges, the Tetsubo actually leaves dents.
So that’s the way.
On the third exchange, I misjudge the timing. Its head whips around faster than I expect. The jaws slam shut inches from my leg. The shockwave sends me stumbling, numbness creeping up my calf.
“Okay,” I hiss between my teeth. “That’s rude.”
[carapace_kid]: THAT THING HAS THUNDER JAWS WHAT THE HELL
[VioletVex]: KYRIS MOVE YOUR ASS
I draw in a deep breath, forcing my thoughts to narrow. Arena falls away. Crowd noise dims.
Just me. Just the beast.
It lunges again, aiming higher this time, going for my torso. I roll under its lower jaw, feeling static lift my hair, and bring the Tetsubo up across its throat with a two-handed swing.
The impact cracks scales.
It recoils, throat flexing reflexively. A rattling hiss escapes it, half-choked.
There we go. That’s something. The scales on its neck are softer.
I hammer at that spot every chance I get. Upper throat, lower jaw, the softer hinge where control and armor meet. Each blow leaves more fractures, more spiderweb lines across the white plates. It starts favoring the other side, turning away from me in its lunges.
Which creates a blind spot.
It snaps, misses, turns too far, and for a brief second its jaw line and skull ridge are exposed together.
I pour heat into my legs and vault, using the Aegis’s vents burst to carry me up and over. The world slows before the impact.
I bring the Tetsubo down with every ounce of force I have, turning the jets down to rocket me to the ground.
The crack echoes off the arena walls.
The Bafkatt collapses, limbs spasming, lightning discharging in wild arcs that smash into the sand instead of me, tracing lines of sand into glass. I backpedal fast, breath raking my lungs, as the crackling dies away.
Finally, it lies still.
The announcer waits until the last flicker fades, then bellows, “AND THE RIVER’S FANG FALLS TO THE HIVE KING’S HAMMER! SUNHOME, LET HIM HEAR YOU!”
The crowd obliges.
Faith surges again, a warm rush against my nerves. I stand there a moment, chest heaving, Tetsubo resting on my shoulder, and let it wash over me.
Shenzah trots back out cautiously, giving the corpse a wide berth. His fur still stands on end.
“Yeah,” I agree softly. “I didn’t like him either.”
Arena crews move in with insulated hooks and chains, hauling the Bafkatt away. Workers rake the sand again, smoothing over pits and scorched patches.
The Huntmaster appears at the edge of the gate, leaning on the rail, grinning like a man who put a coin on a risky bet and won.
I start to turn toward him, ready to ask him for the next fight to start.
The announcer’s voice cuts over the din, and the tone is different this time. Lower. Reverent. Electric.
“And NOW,” he says, “for a bout we have not seen in a very… very long time.”
The crowd instantly hushes, then builds into a rumbling murmur.
I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“In all the years of Sunhome’s glory,” the announcer continues, “there has been one champion of the arena who has never fallen. A titan of war, a fortress of flesh and steel, a friend of our king and terror of his enemies. Today, by the will—or perhaps the ignorance—of our guest, the beast walks the arena once more!”
Laughter ripples through the stands.
My stomach sinks.
“Sunhome,” the announcer roars. “Raise your voices for the undefeated, the unbroken, the one and only—BORRIS THE GALIDICHIAUS!”
The arena floor shudders.
It’s not applause.
The sand itself is moving.
Beneath my feet, something vast shifts. The center of the arena—up until now just flattened combat ground—begins to sink in a wide circle. Stone groans as hidden mechanisms engage. The whole floor lowers slowly, deepening the arena by another hundred feet, revealing a ring of carved pillars and, beyond them, a monstrous gate.
Not the beast-sized door from before.
Something bigger.
A hundred feet tall at least, thirty wide, thick as a castle wall. Its surface is etched with containment sigils, old and dark, worn by age and maintained with ritual care.
The crowd is screaming now in anticipation.
The door rumbles outward on some titanic hinge. Darkness yawns behind it. I realize my hands are sweating against the Tetsubo’s grip.
[Sandseer]: oh. oh no. oh no no no.
[Carapace_kid]: BRO WHAT DID YOU PICK
[VioletVex]: KYRIS YOU ABSOLUTE GREMLIN
I can feel it before I see it.
Weight. Presence.
Every step is a slow, seismic beat. Dust sifts from the stone benches. The torches set into the upper walls flicker and strain.
Then a head emerges.
At first I think it’s a wall, my brain cant comprehend what I am seeing.
A long, thick neck plated in layered armor, each scale the size of a wagon. The head itself is wide and blunt, eyes set deep beneath ridged bone, nostrils flaring. It pushes through the doorway with ponderous inevitability.
Then another head appears beside it.
Then two more above.
Four necks, four heads, each moving with its own focus but perfectly in sync, like a choir of predators.
Galidichiaus.
He—because “it” feels wrong immediately—steps fully into the arena, and I finally see his true scale.
His shoulders crest at ninety feet, heads pushing up to a hundred thirty. His body is a mountain of muscle wrapped in overlapping plates. Spiked ridges jut from the forward armor, scarred and dented from impacts that would flatten most beasts. Old marks adorn his flanks—cuts, burns, heavy scoring—that never quite pierced through.
His feet hit the sand with slow, assured confidence. Every step sends a pulse through my bones.
I can’t breathe for a heartbeat.
“Now,” the announcer says, his voice almost giddy, “as you all know, this fight is different from our usual bouts! Our beloved Galidichiaus—whom some of you know as Boris—does not fight to kill our challengers. This is a test of endurance, courage, and sheer stubbornness! The match ends when our guest surrenders… or when he proves he can stand against a walking siege engine!”
Boris snorts, all four heads blowing hot air, scanning the stands, the gates, the walls. One set of eyes locks on me, then another, until all four are watching.
Not mindless. Not feral.
Assessing.
The crowd loses their minds entirely.
The noise hits me like a physical force.
Shenzah crouches low beside me, ears pinned back, double tails tucked tight. For the first time since I met him, he looks small.
“…Thalos,” I mutter under my breath. “You left this thing in your basement?”
[Archivolt]: THATS A RAID BOSS NOT A PET
[LifelineV]: …oh my god you picked BORIS??
[LifelineV]: do NOT kill him. seriously.
Yeah, I have no idea if I could anyway.
Boris lowers one head slightly, as if bowing in greeting, then plants his feet and waits.
The arena floor is quiet now, apart from his breathing.
I tighten my grip on the Chime, pulse hammering, every instinct torn between running and laughing hysterically.
“Alright,” I whisper, looking up at the towering titan across from me. “Let’s see if the Hive King can make a good impression.”
And with a slow, resigned exhale, I step toward Galidichiaus as the arena, and the world, watch eagerly at how I will get out of this mess.