The gate shut behind Raizō with a dull clang.

  The noise from the pit didn’t follow him. Not right away. People were still trying to decide how they felt about what they had just seen. The attendants moved fast, dragging the broken man out before anyone could think too hard about it.

  Taren watched them go. He didn’t look away until the body disappeared through the lower tunnel. Raizō stepped beside him. His breathing was steady now, but the marks on his arms and knuckles were already darkening. He didn’t say anything at first.

  Taren finally broke the silence.

  “You didn’t have to do that to him,” he said quietly.

  Raizō glanced at him. “I did.”

  Taren swallowed. “You didn’t kill him.”

  “No,” Raizō said. “But he won’t do that again.”

  That answer sat heavy between them. Taren nodded once. He understood it, even if it bothered him. Especially because part of him agreed.

  A handler called Taren’s name.

  The sound pulled him back into the moment. The pit wasn’t done with them yet.

  Taren stepped forward, then paused. “If I mess this up—”

  “You won’t,” Raizō said. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just certain.

  That helped more than Taren expected. He entered the pit to a mixed reaction. Some cheers. Some laughter. Some people already placing bets they thought were safe. His opponent was waiting near the center. The man was tall and broad, with scars that looked old and proud. He rolled his neck and smiled like this was already decided.

  “So,” the man said, looking Taren over, “you’re the friend.”

  Taren raised an eyebrow. “That supposed to scare me?”

  The man chuckled. “Nah. Just means I get paid more if I break you.”

  Taren snorted despite himself. “You’ll have to catch me first.”

  Up above, Shizume leaned forward slightly.

  “He’s trying to joke,” she said under her breath.

  Seris crossed her arms. “He always does that when he’s nervous.”

  Rylan grinned, eyes locked on Taren. “No. That’s not nerves. That’s him trying not to explode.”

  Shizume glanced at him. “You sound sure.”

  “I’ve seen this look before,” Rylan said. “People like him don’t lose clean. They change.”

  Seris didn’t like that answer, but she didn’t argue.

  Down in the pit, the opponent stepped closer. “Last chance to walk away.”

  Taren shook his head. “Already tried that once. Didn’t end well.”

  The crowd laughed.

  This time, Taren didn’t rush. He circled slowly, keeping space, forcing the other man to move first. The opponent tested him with light strikes, confident, playful. One landed against Taren’s guard hard enough to sting.

  The man smiled wider. “There it is.”

  Taren felt it then. Not power. Not strength. Pressure. Not from the crowd. Not from the pit. From himself. He thought of Raizō standing calm after what he’d done. Thought of how close he’d been to losing him just moments ago. Thought of being told, again and again, that he didn’t belong anywhere.

  His hands tightened. The air around him felt wrong. The opponent lunged. Taren moved without thinking. The hit he landed stopped the man cold. Not because it was perfect. Because it was real. The smile vanished. The crowd leaned forward.

  Shizume’s breath caught. “Oh no…”

  Seris stared. “He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing yet.”

  Rylan didn’t blink. “Yeah,” he said softly. “But his body does.”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Down in the pit, the fight was no longer playful. And it was only just beginning. The man recovered faster than Taren expected. He staggered back a step, surprise flashing across his face before irritation replaced it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at the blood there, like it offended him.

  “That wasn’t funny,” he said.

  Taren smiled. It was small, crooked, and completely out of place. He rolled his shoulder once, feeling the sting there, then settled back into his stance. His breathing was heavy, but steady. The ache in his muscles felt… right. Familiar. For the first time since leaving the Wildlands, his body wasn’t arguing with him. It was agreeing.

  The man rushed him again, faster this time. Taren laughed under his breath and moved to meet him. Not smooth. Not perfectly. He took a hit to the shoulder that sent a jolt down his arm, but he stayed upright. His foot slid on the sand, and instead of panicking, he adjusted. He turned with the blow, rolled with it, and answered with an elbow that caught the man in the ribs.

  The sound it made made Taren grin wider. The opponent grunted and stumbled back, now fully serious. Raizō had gone still. He wasn’t watching like a spectator. He wasn’t tense either. His eyes followed Taren’s movements closely, not just where he struck, but how he moved between strikes. The hesitation that used to be there was gone. Raizō recognized it immediately. This wasn’t desperation. This was comfort.

  The man in the pit circled warily now, breathing harder. “You’ve got something in you,” he muttered. “I’ll beat it out.”

  Taren let out a breathy laugh. “You can try.”

  The man lunged again, swinging wide, trying to overwhelm him with force. Taren ducked under the strike and drove his shoulder into the man’s chest. They collided hard, sand kicking up around their feet. The man tried to overpower him, arms locking, muscles straining.

  Taren pushed back. The resistance, the weight, the fight. His fingers dug in not claws, not yet, but his grip felt wrong. Stronger than it should have been. He twisted, forcing the man off balance, and slammed him into the ground. The impact rattled through both of them. The crowd roared. Taren didn’t let go.

  He dragged the man back to his feet and shoved him away, breathing hard now, eyes bright. His vision felt sharper than it should have been. He could smell the man’s fear under the blood and dirt. And it made him feel alive. The opponent noticed it too.

  His confidence cracked. “What are you?”

  Taren chuckled. “Having fun.”

  The man rushed him one last time, desperate and reckless “This wasn't how this was supposed to go.”

  Taren met him head on. The blow he landed wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t pretty. It was heavy and direct, driven by instinct and joy and something old waking up inside him. The man went down hard and didn’t get back up. Silence hit the pit in an instant. Taren stood there for a moment, chest heaving.

  Raizō exhaled slowly. He felt it settle then. Not power bursting outward, not pressure crushing the air. Something internal, coiling tighter instead of spreading wide. It wasn’t calm. It wasn’t certainty. It was hunger sharpened into focus. Raizō stayed where he was. Taren didn’t need saving.

  He was exactly where he wanted to be.

  The crowd hesitated before it remembered how to breathe. The man in the sand didn’t move. His body lay twisted wrong, one leg bent beneath him in a way that made it clear he wasn’t standing again. A few people cheered late, unsure if that was what they were supposed to do. Others stayed quiet, staring.

  Taren stepped back on his own. He rolled his shoulders once, like he was shaking off tension, then wiped his hands on his pants. When he looked up, his eyes found Raizō almost immediately. He grinned.

  Seris hadn’t moved since the final blow landed. Her eyes were fixed on Taren, sharp and unsettled. She wasn’t shocked by the violence. She’d seen worse. What bothered her was how right it looked on him. How naturally his body had fallen into it, like he’d stopped pretending to be something else. That wasn’t training. That was identity. She exhaled slowly.

  Her thoughts raced ahead, already connecting paths she didn’t like. Kaijin users had almost killed them days ago. Taren wasn’t there yet, but he was moving in that direction fast.

  And he was enjoying it.

  Rylan’s smile froze.

  It didn’t fade all at once. It stalled. The lazy lean against the rail straightened just slightly. His elbow lifted. His head tilted, eyes narrowing, not in excitement, but in focus.

  So that’s what you are, he thought.

  He stopped clapping.

  Around him, people shouted and laughed, already calling for the next fight. Rylan didn’t react. His gaze stayed locked on Taren as the pit guards moved in to drag the defeated fighter away.

  Seris noticed.

  She hadn’t looked away from the pit either, but the shift was obvious once she saw it. Rylan wasn’t playing anymore. Whatever he’d expected to see, this wasn’t it.

  Shizume shifted without meaning to, fingers brushing the hilt at her side, then stopping. She hadn’t looked away from the pit either, but her expression was different. Tense. Uneasy. Not afraid of Taren, but of what she was seeing him become in real time. This wasn’t like Raizō. Taren’s felt like something waking up. Something that wanted to hunt.

  She swallowed.

  Rylan noticed. He leaned back again, but the unserious air didn’t return. Not fully. His fingers tapped once against the rail, thoughtful. His eyes flicked once, briefly, to Raizō. Then back to Taren.

  So that’s why you’re following him, he thought, eyes flicking back to Raizō.

  Taren stopped beside the edge of the pit instead of walking past it. He didn’t look at the crowd. Didn’t look at the guards. He looked up. Raizō was already watching him. For a moment, Taren said nothing. The noise around them blurred, like it didn’t matter. He rolled his neck once, then lifted his chin slightly.

  “That too much?” he asked.

  “No,” Raizō said. “You ended it when you should’ve.”

  That was it. Taren let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His grin came back, smaller this time, real.

  “Good,” he said. “Didn’t wanna screw it up.”

  He turned toward the gate then, shoulders loose, steps light. Whatever doubt had been there was gone. Up in the stands, a few people noticed the exchange. They didn’t hear the words. They didn’t need to.

  Rylan didn’t smile when the crowd roared back to life. He didn’t move when the next fighter entered the cage. For the first time since they entered Khareen, he wasn’t thinking about tricks or exits or how to turn this to his advantage.

  He just watched.