Vincent and Jason rested in their cell. Max’s last words still lingered in Jason’s mind—not hopeful, but heavy with sadness. He understood why Max wanted to stay: his family had died here, and he hadn’t been able to save them. Still, Jason believed there had to be hope.

  Vincent inspected his stash. “Take the red one. That leads to the office.”

  Jason blinked, pulled from thought. “Right… red for the offices, then the blue for—”

  He stopped as footsteps echoed past the door. The guard made his rounds and then stood in place again.

  Jason whispered, “Blue’s for the corridor doors, leading to the emergency bay.”

  Vincent nodded. “And the gears will open the door to the gladiators’ rec area. Then the jello for the officer’s fingerprint—start the automatic dropship evacuation.”

  He fixed Jason with a serious look. “It all comes down to you killing Veyrn. Can you do it?”

  Jason straightened. “I’ve been training every day. The fights are easier now. I’ll kill him, then link up with Max and escape.”

  “And the surprises? Extra guards, sudden fights?”

  “There won’t be. Max will sabotage the gravity engines. That’ll distract them, and we’ll be moving in zero-g. Besides—Veyrn only lets me fight once a week. He wants to keep the ‘magic’ alive.”

  Jason gave him a firm nod. “Yeah. We’re solid.”

  “Then we wait until the hangar rotates away from the planet, with the sun in front of us.”

  Jason let out a shaky breath. “Tomorrow… we leave this place.” He said it as much to convince himself as Vincent.

  The door slid open. A guard filled the frame. Jason and Vincent froze—had he heard?

  “Let’s go,” the man grunted, waving them out.

  They exhaled silently and obeyed. Today wasn’t a workday, and Jason had already fought this week, so they were given time in the rec area.

  Prisoners wandered, bartered, and watched. A wiry man approached Vincent. “Is everything ready?”

  “Yeah,” Vincent whispered. “Tomorrow. We’ll pick you up on the way to the dropship bay. Make sure everyone’s ready.”

  The words carried further than his voice. Everyone seemed to hear.

  Jason’s gaze drifted to the kitchen door, its heavy metal lock impossible to break.

  “You think the gear will work?” Vincent asked.

  “It’s cut to fit. A handmade lockpick—it’ll work.” Jason leaned closer. “You’re sure it connects to the gladiators’ kitchens?”

  “Yes. I’ve memorized the corridors.” Vincent frowned. “Stop asking me. We’ve gone over this.”

  Jason mirrored the look. “And you’re the one who keeps repeating the plan.”

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  Vincent grunted. “Fine. I’ll see if I can grab some comms. Even if we split up, it’s safer.”

  He traded words with a guard Jason recognized from old dealings. The man eventually led him toward the offices. Jason glimpsed Vincent later, already in cleaning overalls, slipping through the maze of rooms in search of something.

  Left alone, Jason waited by the window. Eventually Tahuuk appeared across the way with his fellow fighters. They exchanged a nod. Jason looked toward the sun rising over the planet’s curve.

  “Tomorrow,” he whispered. Tahuuk caught the signal and passed it along.

  By the time Vincent returned, the day was over. They went back to their cell in tense silence. Neither slept much, nerves stretched taut.

  A few hours later, footsteps stopped outside their door. Jason jolted upright. Too late? The stash—how do we hide it with the guard here already?

  The door slid open. The guard entered with his usual grunt, eyes locking on Jason.

  “You. With me.”

  Jason and Vincent stared. This wasn’t part of the plan.

  Jason hesitated. “Why?”

  The guard turned without answering, waiting. Jason slipped the stolen comm into his ear as he stepped out.

  The guard finally spoke. “Lord Veyrn ordered your presence in the arena.”

  Jason froze. “What?”

  “He wants you to fight.”

  The push between his shoulders snapped him back to motion. He glanced at Vincent—frightened, but signaling to continue the plan.

  As Jason walked the corridors, he scanned for signs of discovery. Nothing. That meant this wasn’t about the escape. He remembered Veyrn’s sour expression after the last fight. He hated how easy we had it. This is spite.

  The prep area loomed ahead. Tahuuk was already pacing, agitation plain on his face.

  “We got your gear ready!” a guard called. A sword, spear, and metallic gauntlet waited on the counter. Then the guard ducked down and laid out two armplates. One carried a mounted wrist-crossbow.

  “Lord Veyrn says you get a little bonus today.”

  Jason buckled the strange gear reluctantly. Tahuuk did the same. Both sensed something wrong.

  “Let’s move!” another guard barked.

  They climbed the incline. The arena doors opened. The roar of the crowd swallowed them whole. Jason’s pulse hammered. Tahuuk, usually calm, looked tense. Even Veyrn leaned forward with a grin.

  The announcer strode out. “What a surprise, ladies and gentlemen! The wonder duo—two fights in one week! And their opponent? Hand-picked by Lord Veyrn himself. A fallen legend, once a knight of the Empire! Cast aside by the Emperor, but not by his strength! Welcome—Sir Tallik, the fallen knight!”

  The word knight hit Tahuuk like a blade. His face drained of color.

  Jason turned. “What is it?”

  Tahuuk swallowed. “Knights… are soldiers trained to fight what others can’t. Commanders. Bodyguards of nobles. They don’t fail. Some say they have powers beyond men. My elder always said—if you want to know a knight, look him in the eyes. Then run.”

  A shiver ran through Jason. His hand shook.

  The far door opened. A figure stepped out, plain and quiet. He wore battered armor, rusted at the joints. A ragged wine-red cape clung to his back, the sigil of his house long gone. His face was scarred, indifferent, with the weary look of a drunk.

  But his presence suffocated the air.

  The announcer raised his arms. “Are you ready? Then let the battle… begin!”

  Jason and Tahuuk braced. Their breaths stuttered. The knight walked. Then jogged. Then sprinted. His speed mounted unnaturally fast—too fast. Jason had a flash of memory: the Rashtaki beast charging.

  And then he was there.

  Tahuuk blocked the longsword, but the blow hurled him across the sand.

  Jason barely processed it before he swung his own blade. The knight batted it aside with his left forearm, then seized Jason’s head and slammed it into the ground.

  Dust exploded. The knight stood over them, relaxed, as if none of this required effort.

  Jason and Tahuuk lay dazed. The crowd had gone silent. Fear smothered their voices.

  Only one man clapped and laughed, savoring every moment—Lord Veyrn.

  Jason barely heard him. He stared up at the figure above. This… this is a knight of the Empire?!