Their plan, it seemed, had been a huge success.

Resting against one of the hard walls of the room, Abel watched as he was sold to the crowds, as the others tried to win support of the people.

‘Half of a fight is having the crowds behind you,’ one of men had said.

Their words had a visible impact on the other competitors as well. It seemed most were glad to step out of the deep reverie of fear the competition had sucked them into, and they were reminded that the rules were vague, the rewards for winning unknown, and they weren’t truly against one another. They were all stuck in the city together.

With this in mind, Abel noticed that the fights began to lengthen. The competitors used moves that were flashy, serving only to appeal to the crowds, their fear taking a backseat. They weren’t afraid to take some chances now.

Twice, the crowds had began to chant Abel’s name, noting how he hadn’t been sent to fight in quite some time. He was grateful for the long break, but began to fear the reasoning for it.

Likewise, Bernard was pelted with boos. Those who were unfortunate enough to face him usually didn’t get close. They were afraid and rightly so. They had seen him kill and knew he would do it again. The man didn’t seem bothered by their quick surrenders, though he seemed to grow sick of having weapons tossed at him. The glaive did an excellent job of knocking them away.

Soon, there was only one person in the room with him. A man whose name he hadn’t learned, but whose words had already touched Abel several times.

“You’re going to make it,” he said, patting him on the shoulder. “I know it. You’re the big attraction. You proved yourself to be a big draw after that tiger incident, I’m sure of it. Whoever is controlling these matches, they know that. They’re letting you heal up back here, making sure you’re ready for your last match. But you’ll win. I’m positive.”

Abel nodded. “I hope you’re right. I’m not sure I have more than one match left in me.”

And then the man was gone, appearing on his panel against someone who Abel had started noticing in the most recent fights. An asian man who wielded a katana. He was short, but he was fast, his arms often swinging upward, easily disarming his opponents. The man hadn’t shown such skill in the earlier rounds, or Abel would have noted him as strong competition. Unfortunately, he was sure the man would dispatch him easily, if they were pinned against one another now. They might have been evenly matched if they went head to head, uninjured and well-rested, but...

Abel tested out his leg. The pain was present, but had faded, replaced by an incessant itch and a frightening numbness. He could stand on it, but bending at the knee sent quivers through the leg and his hip.

Alone, Abel walked around the perimeter of the room, a hand on the wall for support, watching the fight progress on his HUD. There was plenty of circling and feinting. The man’s katana was nearly pulled away by the opponent’s flail at once point, but then a few heartbeats later, he swept out the man’s legs and held the sharp blade over him until he gained victory by surrender.

The panel vanished and the crowds began to shake the stones around him, as they did between rounds. Abel tried to focus his mind and ease the tension building up inside of him. That was one of the first things he had learned when he had joined the fencing club: relax or lose.

Easier said than done. He paced the room again, trying to create a strategy for each of the remaining fighters. There was the asian man, Bernard and...

Is that everyone? He thought, adrenaline pumping. Are we already at the end?

Bright light rained upon his head. Abel stood in the pit, sharing the circle with three others. He tried to make his leg look unhurt, pretending to lean on it, hoping to appear threatening.

Agona, I present to you: your final four competitors! Give it up for the city’s finest fighters!

The crowds exploded with cheers.

First, the lightning fast katana wielding Kenji!

Abel squinted across the pit, seeing the asian man standing, feet flat, face expressionless. He was eying Abel’s leg intently. Shit.

Second, hailing all the way from Germany, the man with the longsword, Adlar!

He was big, his face hardly visible between his dark mop and beard. Abel hadn’t noticed just how big the man was on the panel, but now that he was standing twenty meters away, he nearly cussed aloud, catching himself, remembering who was listening.

Third, the most controversial figure in this tournament-

The crowds began to boo. He could see a number of the spectators were on their feet, shaking their thumbs down.

-the wielder of the deadly glaive, Bernard!

Their boos continued. Then a cheer began to rise, along with a serenade of clapping.

Finally, the man with the sabre. The man who defeated the tiger. Standing on one leg, hoping to avenge his fallen comrade, Abel!

He felt his face begin to pale as the cheering continued.

Abel suddenly realized how he was being used. The others, trying to help him, had only amplified the cause, going along with the situation being set up.

He and Bernard were being used as pawns. They were being made into characters, their stories being written for them through the fights’ events.

“Abel,” he heard a voice call out. He turned to see Kenji was running towards him, katana at the ready.

His mouth quivered. Abel prepared to give up. But he couldn’t speak the words. He wanted to be done with the arena and the fighting, but somehow the words wouldn’t leave his mouth.

I have to beat Bernard. For what he did to Brian. Even if it’s what is expected.

Sky Sight had surely set the brackets with an unparalleled foresight. It had known what would happen. It had foreseen Abel’s skill and set him against some of the better competitors. It had known he would help those around him, help Brian, especially when he was injured. It had known he wouldn’t give in when fighting the striped beast. It had known he wouldn’t die yet.

It had set Bernard against the easiest competitors, easing him through the fights because he wasn’t quite skilled enough to make it otherwise. It had known that would spur his confidence, enhance his already smug personality, remove whatever fears held him back from being ruthless.

It had planned everything from the start.

Surely it had planned Abel’s realization as well.

“Ready yourself!” Kenji said, nearly upon him.

The words wouldn’t leave his mouth. Abel raised the sabre and met blades with the man.

He was afraid, but he had seen how much respect the man had fought with. Abel wasn’t afraid of being ruthlessly slaughtered, even if this was the last round. He would sustain another injury perhaps, but the man would give him the chance to surrender.

Kenji took a step back, nodding to his leg. “It’s a shame. I would’ve liked this to be an even fight.”

Abel grimaced.

The man came at him again, sword swinging. The blow caught his sabre again. It was as though...

Abel caught the glimmer in the man’s eye. He wasn’t trying to fight him, he was trying to communicate something. Abel lifted his blade and swung, the asian man bringing his katana up to stop it without much resolve.

What is he doing? Why isn’t he fighting me? Has he realized this is all just a facade as well?

Then the man nodded his head to Bernard, who was currently chasing after the bigger man with his glaive on the other side of the pit.

“I’ll do what I can,” was all he said. The words carried through the arena, quiet but strong enough for every ear to receive. The other competitors looked over as well. Bernard only for a single heartbeat, using the opportunity to toss his weapon like a javelin.

Abel looked away as the crowds shrieked. He could hear the large man yelling in pain as the glaive drove into his back. “I surrender!” he cried in a hoarse voice. Then he was gone. Likely to bleed out in the stands.

Abel and Kenji stood side by side, watching as Bernard walked over to pick his weapon from the sands again. There was no blood on it; it had warped with the man’s body.

“Thanks for the help,” Bernard said, dusting the sand off the handle.

Kenji gave Abel a long look.

“We’re going to fight another day,” he said, lifting his katana, looking at it close. “You’ll win today, but I will win tomorrow. And we can prove who is truly the champion of this arena.”

Heart pounding in his chest, not sure what the man was intending, Abel quickly nodded. The crowds responded appropriately with oohs and cheers.

“You two seem to be forgetting about someone,” Bernard said. “Or are you going to team up together?”

“No,” Kenji said, “You’ll face me first.”