I'm a brainless corpse, Reza thought, rushing through the streets to make it to the amphitheater before the games commenced.

  He hadn’t anticipated the gates to be teeming with travelers at such an early hour, considering the sun had only risen about an hour ago. Hundreds of people clogged the Northern Gate. To make matters worse, the Legions had established a camp at each of the three city gates, adding an extra layer of security and time for answering inquiries. Consequently, the time it took him to travel from his estate to the amphitheater had doubled.

  Reza sprinted through the streets, skillfully weaving through the crowd and carts to reach the amphitheater. Finally, he turned the corner onto the main street in the Northern District. There, standing tall, was the grand theater. Its massive rune-covered blocks of white marble, streaked with black, formed its imposing structure.

  Surrounding the theater, the street was packed, forcing Reza to push through the crowd and apologize profusely. “Excuse me, I need to get through.”

  Echoes Abyss, I don’t need this right now. Reza pushed through the crowd, slowly getting closer to the theater. Unfortunately, he would be late if he persisted in working through the crowded area, especially considering the angry glances and curses he received as he moved through the crowd. Realizing that he couldn’t continue, Reza turned away from the dense crowd and made his way down the dimly lit street. The crowds were much easier to navigate here, as it didn’t lead to the entrance.

  “How many people genuinely believed they would secure a spot in the contest is amazing,” Reza remarked. The theater’s seating capacity was limited to approximately thirty-five thousand people. Reza sensed that nearly double to triple the number of individuals were attempting to make their way to the contest, many accompanied by their wraiths. He turned once more and finally positioned himself next to the amphitheater. He approached a concealed side gate, hoping to utilize it to reach the designated area for the contestants.

  Reza approached the gate and gave it a knock. He waited for a few moments before attempting again. “Is anyone there?”

  There was an eerie silence behind the gate, and the only audible sound he could discern was the distant echoes of the people struggling to gain entry.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Reza channeled his power and summoned Elana to the top of the wall. He flared power and swiftly switched positions with her, before releasing Elana. With a graceful drop, he safely descended from the wall onto the grounds of the amphitheater.

  As Reza turned around, he noticed a grey-uniformed man sprinting towards him.

  “What on earth is this nonsense? Everyone must enter through the main entrance, no exceptions.” He drew a two-foot-long cudgel. As he drew nearer, a glowing blueish wraith in their uniform materialized beside him, wielding a similar weapon.

  Reza raised his hands in a placating gesture. A slight bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. He knew he had to address this situation promptly. “I’m not here to make any trouble, I’m just trying to find where the fighters are gathering before I miss the contest.”

  The guard halted a few feet away. “Lost is about right. I’ll escort you out now and ensure you’re banned from attending the contest.”

  Reza attempted to stop the guard from moving forward. “I assure you, I’m not here to watch the contest. I’ve signed up to participate in it.”

  The guard remained unconvinced, his club still poised to strike Reza.

  “If you doubt my words, bring me to one of the priests of Sorana. They should be able to clarify this matter.” He reluctantly agreed to continue, eager to reach the contest. However, he didn’t harbor any ill feelings towards the guard, recognizing his duty.

  The guard’s demeanor relaxed slightly. “Follow me. We’ll determine if you’re telling the truth.” He gestured with the cudgel for Reza to approach, and he joined a few feet behind him.

  Reza continued walking away from the commotion, likely the main entrance. The grounds were deserted surprisingly, the area they walked offering no doors or open spaces to enter the theater properly.

  “What am I searching for, and how far is it?” Reza called over his shoulder, his gaze fixed on the man and his wraith.

  “Around this corner, there’s a doorway. Go through it, and it’ll lead us to where the contestants gather,” he replied curtly.

  The door was indeed there, and Reza stepped through it. It descended below the theater. They walked in silence for a while before he could hear voices. Finally, the stairs opened into a vast room where hundreds of people stood. It was clear that these were the other contestants, as almost everyone held some weapon. Reza examined a few of the closer individuals. Interestingly, upon closer inspection, the weapons were not real but crafted from a dark grey wood. It became evident that everyone possessed similar grey wooden weapons.

  Surprising, I had anticipated blunt weapons for the contest, not wooden ones. He urgently needed to acquire some of them quickly before the fighting began. It was never advisable to attempt using a new weapon without practice. Each weapon possessed a distinct feel, and the weight of wooden weapons significantly altered his fighting style.

  “Where are we headed?” Reza inquired, unable to see any of Sorana’s priests and priestesses. Unfortunately, none of the contestants near him were familiar faces either. Would he recognize anyone in his first fight? Rumors had circulated over the past few days that hundreds of people had registered, but many of his acquaintances had not, except for Sabine and her brother.

  “This way,” the guard continued, guiding Reza through the crowd. They encountered no resistance; most of the combatants simply moved aside. Reza attempted to nod to a few individuals, but they remained reserved, engaging in minimal conversation with anyone.

  It didn’t take long for Reza to spot a priestess of Sorana seated at a large desk near a set of stairs. He didn’t recognize her. She was significantly younger than the priestess he had signed up with. Her black hair was cut extremely short, barely an inch long.

  The guard approached her. “We found this individual attempting to scale the wall into the grounds. He claims to be part of the contest.”

  Reza ascended to the desk. “I am Lord Marius Reza. I am slated to participate in the second bout.” He bowed his head slightly to the priestess in respect.

  “Allow me to review the records,” she diligently sorted through a stack of papers before selecting one and diligently reading down the list.

  Reza remained composed. The list undoubtedly included his name, he was certain. However, a lingering doubt persisted, gnawing at his stomach. It was a small nugget of uncertainty that threatened to undermine his confidence.

  The priestess took her time, but finally, she placed the list aside and turned to face them. “Ah, there it is. His name is indeed on the list. You may resume your duties.” She declared.

  The guard bowed respectfully and marched away without uttering a single word.

  “Now, let us avoid any further problems,” she addressed him, her piercing blue eyes fixed on his. She instructed him and gestured for him to follow. “We must first replace your weapons before the oath ceremony.”

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  Reza complied. “What oath? I have never heard any mention of such an oath.”

  She turned back to him with a puzzled expression on her face. “The oath of the contest. Every fighter must take the sacred oath that they will become the Archon if they emerge victorious. It’s binding to ensure we find the right champion. Sorana insisted that the oath be added, so everyone is obligated to take it.”

  She smiled and led him to a couple of imposing figures standing behind a large counter in the corner of the room. A doorway stood behind them, but Reza couldn’t make out what lay beyond.

  “Another contestant,” she turned back to Reza. “Feel free to choose any weapons you need for your fight, but please note that no real weapons are allowed. You’ll exchange your weapons for replacements, which will be returned after the bout.”

  Reza pulled his two daggers from their sheaths and handed them over. However, he hesitated with his sword before handing it over as well. One of the men took them and walked through the doorway, while the other moved over to Reza’s side.

  “Would you like two daggers and a sword that resembles those? Or perhaps something else?” He asked, gesturing towards stacks of grey weapons placed on multiple tables and shelves.

  Reza pondered for a moment. Fifty fighters with something longer might be advantageous, but he was always more skilled with daggers. It was best to keep things simple.

  “As many daggers as you’ll permit, and the same style sword, please. You never know when I might need to throw a couple.” Reza requested. He would keep two daggers in his sheaths and initiate the fight with two daggers in hand.

  “I can provide you with five,” the man replied. He moved to a table, retrieved several grey wooden daggers, and placed them on the counter between them.

  Reza picked up two. They were significantly heavier than he had anticipated, almost as heavy as his daggers. “What kind of wood is this?” he inquired.

  “Just oak, it’s soaked in a solution that hardens the wood to an iron-like property. They can be sharpened to a a razor point, but the entire process is costly.” He glanced over at the priestess, and Reza followed his gaze. She was engrossed in conversation with another priest and didn’t seem to be paying attention to our discussion. “I don’t understand why the priests desired this weapon. It’s likely three times the gold to equip all of you for combat, while blunt weapons would have been sufficient. However, these wooden weapons are stronger and won’t break easily.”

  Reza let out a low whistle as he skillfully wove the long dagger through his fingers. Both were well balanced, and he might even claim that it was superior to his own blades. Something about them made him feel lighter and more energized. It might simply be their peculiar nature, but he was intrigued nonetheless. ‘Are these your creations? By the way, I’m Marius Reza.’”

  Reza extended his hand, and the man grasped it firmly. “Kelburn. My partner, Hellion and I discovered or created the process. We were attempting to enhance the strength of iron for our forge when a piece of wood fell into the solution. After a few hours, the wood came out as strong as iron.”

  He chuckled, skillfully spinning one of the daggers on the counter. “I never imagined anything could emerge from something that costs more than iron to produce.” Kelburn shrugged. “Initially, I started making them as a side project, but then the churches came into the picture. They ordered hundreds for their guards. That pesky rule they have regarding metal and sharp weapons. These weapons provide them with superior tools, bending the rule enough for them to wield them.”

  Reza examined the dagger. The seamless beauty of the wood captivated him, and while they weren’t sharp, the blade felt superior to the daggers the Legion had provided. These were weapons he would relish using.

  However, as he examined the sword, he was less pleased. The weapon Lord Sulli had given him was far superior to this wooden version. It wasn’t an inferior blade; it would be considered better than the legion’s iron blades. The black sword was truly impressive, and that was before Reza discovered the mysterious power dormant within it. He sheathed the sword and turned his attention back to the blacksmith. “Where’s your forge?”

  Kelburn raised an eyebrow. “Burners’ Corner. We’re the first forge on the street, and anyone can point us out if you ask for Kelburn.”

  Reza extended his hand again and shook Kelburn’s hand. “I might have to order some daggers from you, sharpened, of course. These could be some of the best weapons I’ve ever held.”

  “It’s very kind of you to say that. We’ll easily be able to fulfill any order you may have. But feel free to let me know your preferences here. We’ll be present throughout the entire contest. Just let me know, and I can initiate the process.”

  “I’ll do that. My fight today will be a great test for these weapons. If they hold up as you say, I’ll be ordering a few.” Reza moved away, taking the daggers with him. It was time to complete this oath and witness his abilities against forty-nine other fighters.

  A loud whistle pierced through the room, causing Reza to scan the surroundings for the source of the noise. Across the vast stage, five black-robed priests stood above the crowd. He recognized the young orator from the announcement and his spectral companion standing resolutely beside him.

  “Contestants, it is time for the sacred oath,” the orator’s voice resonated throughout the room, as if he were standing right next to Reza.

  The other priest’s wraiths joined them on the stage, emitting an unsettling yellow glow. Their eerie color sent a shiver down Reza’s spine.

  “The priests of Sorana and their wraiths will witness the solemn oath-taking ceremony. Understand this: if you fail to say the words, you will be barred from participating in the contest. Do not harbor any doubts that we will not discern who has sworn an oath. Sorana’s gaze is fixed upon the contest, and nothing will escape her notice.” The young priest imparted this crucial information.

  Reza glanced around and observed that many others were following suit. It was evident that everyone in the room harbored similar thoughts, as evidenced by the expressions on their faces. Sorana observed them as they stood there, her attention unwavering throughout the contest. Moreover, the contest had transcended its mere symbolic nature; someone within this room would emerge as the next Archon for her.

  “Please adhere to the oath and recite it precisely as I do.” The young man commenced the oath. “We, the warriors about to engage in battle, pledge to lay down our lives for the greater good of Arkhen. We shall forever dedicate ourselves to the cause of Sorana. I am willing to endure the torments of burning, binding, beating, and death by the sword. Yet, I shall remain unbroken, unwavering in my service to Sorana. I shall die in defense of her and our city.”

  Reza hesitated for a moment, as many others did, before proudly making the oath. It was merely another step towards this seemingly insurmountable journey he had embarked on. The pledge itself wasn’t as peculiar as it might have seemed. It bore a striking resemblance to his oath with the legions in several aspects.

  “Now, the first bout commence soon.” He paused once more before continuing. “Considering the substantial number of participants who registered for the contest, we have made the decision to combine multiple bouts. Consequently, the first two groups will be fight as one, featuring the hundred participants.”

  Murmurs rippled throughout the crowd. It was an unexpected announcement. Fifty fighters would have been an almost insurmountable obstacle to reaching the next round, one hundred cut everyone’s chances in half.

  He raised his hand, and an eerie silence descended upon the crowd. “Furthermore, only one fighter will advance to the next round. We will have only ten contestants engaged in duels.”

  This news sparked an uproar in the crowd. Reza understood their anger, as he felt the same way. These changes should have been announced before the room swore to Sorana. Everyone was now trapped in a contest where the rules had been abruptly changed after they had made the pledge. Many people’s chances had been significantly reduced in a single moment. In fact, even his own prospects weren’t looking promising. He was a better one-on-one fighter, not a melee fighter.

  The legions never expected him to fight in the proper lines. Reza orders were always to move with a small group of soldiers to do their own thing, going into enemy territory and eliminating them whenever Reza felt it was safe. He simply shrugged. Life in the legion had taught him that things never went the way you expected and you just had to get the job done with what you had. This fight would be the same.

  Sabine appeared through the crowd, and Reza joined her, pulling her into a hug. She carried a bow with two quivers full of arrows on both hips. Her equipment was complete with a bandolier of throwing knives crossing her chest.

  "So isn't this a joyful trek through the abyss?" Sabine inquired. “The only silver lining is that if you can get through this mess, you’re that much closer to the Archon."

  Reza chuckled, feeling a slight improvement in his spirits thanks to her words. “I need your optimism. Always finding the good in any situation.”

  “Well, in this situation, you have to. We made an oath. I can’t bear to think of the consequences if we break it.” She shivered dramatically.

  “Of course, and I get to be in the first bout. How delightful!” Reza remarked. He glanced around at the people, but there weren’t any numbers or markings on their clothes to indicate who would be fighting when.

  “You’ll be fine, just watch your back.” She briefly grasped his shoulder before letting her hand drop. “We both need to be prudent so that we both advance to the next round. I expect to see you there.”

  “I will. Be wise yourself,” Reza wanted to add more, but what else could he say that hadn’t already been expressed?

  “Fighters of the first and second bouts, please proceed to the exit.” The young orator announced from his elevated position.

  Reza glanced around and noticed a few individuals near him making their way forward, entering the open doors to the right if the stage.

  “I’ll see you after your fight,” Reza said, and he followed the group to the arena.