"And as part of tradition we have saved the most anticipated match for last," The announcer's voice booms from the speakers around us as he remains hidden from view.

"My fellow Plutonian's and dear hardworking humans, I bring to you our last match of the day: Michael versus Commander Veron."

I clutch the rims of my seat tightly, ignoring the stinging pain in my bitten finger and forearm, the throbbing in my nose and ribs. My eyes shift wildly around me wondering why I have been made to sit here. 

I see three other fighters being guided towards me and they sit in the empty seats next to me, all looking as confused as I feel. 

Nobody dares say a word as we sit in the exclusive seating area surrounded by Plutonian's. The Trinity are seated a few rows behind and I steal a glance at Lucian but when I catch his face I notice his expression is as confused as mine. 

Only Lazarus seems to be enjoying himself and when he catches my eye, he shoots me a wide toothed grin which makes me realize that he must be behind this. I look behind him, wondering why the generals aren't saying anything -not that they usually do- and am surprised to find them absent. I didn't notice that they weren't here today.

I turn around slowly and my body shivers involuntarily as I see Michael walk into the pit from a door that has slid open in the walls. As he walks to the center, I can see his shoulders slumped in defeat already. 

One look at him makes me feel like throwing up as I remember our last match and how he ended up here. Something clicks in my head and it all finally makes sense. I look to my left and right at the three fighters who have joined me and remember at least two of them defeating Michael in his matches before mine.

The boy who sits two seats away looks at me just as I glance at him and I remember him being the one who injured Michael's foot, which I had used to my advantage. 

Michael stands in the center looking around at all the spectators who are silent with anticipation and he jumps when a door to the pit slides open and out comes a Plutonian. Michael himself is big and tall but when the Plutonian joins him at the center of the pit, he looks like a miniature figure next to him. 

I eye the Plutonian named Veron from head to toe and my throat feels dry enough to choke. He must be at least seven feet tall and all pure muscle. He wears the same suit as Michael but with his silver hair and cold calculating blue eyes I can already guess how this match is going to end. 

I shut my eyes tightly and rock back and forth hoping that this is just a great big nightmare and that I would wake up in a hospital bed with my wounds stitched up. I had planned to miss this match because this was the last thing I wanted to see. 

"Commander Veron, thank you for fighting for us today," Lazarus's voice pierces through the air that is wrought with tension and I immediately open my eyes to stare at him. I don't remember the Trinity or the generals making any announcements before. 

His bright eyes gleam in excitement as he scans the crowd. His eyes settle on the row I am seated in and he speaks again. 

"The matches between humans and Plutonian's are never to be taken lightly. They are meant to be a learning curve for those who wish to join the great Plutonian army and that is why I must stress that it is imperative that you watch this match with your eyes wide open and unblinking to show your utmost respect," He commands and I visibly flinch wondering if that comment was meant for me specifically. 

I clutch my seat painfully as he adjourns to his place and watch as Michael and Commander Veron exchange formalities. Michael barely looks at his opponent in the face and when he lifts his hand for a shake I can see that he is visibly shaking. 

My nails dig into the fabric of my pants and into my skin but it does nothing to stop the dread that grows in my belly like a fire waiting to consume me. The girl fighter who sits next to me shifts uncomfortably and from the corner of my eye I see her bite down on her lip hard. 

Once the formalities are over, Commander Veron allows Michael to choose his weapon of choice and Michael chooses to fight with a dozen heated knives. I can only presume that he plans to hurt the Commander from a distance before he has the chance to reach him and I hope with all my heart that he is able to. 

They walk to their positions and the whole arena is dead silent, the only thing I hear is the beating of my heart in my ears. When the whistle blows I nearly jump in my seat and I watch the Plutonian saunter up to a hesitant Michael. 

Michael lifts him arm behind him and after a moments hesitation he throws a heated knife towards Commander Veron but the knife lands in the ground a few feet in front of him. Michael looks so nervous, I don't know what to feel. I pray that his aim improves in the next few seconds and when he lifts his hand again, I hold my breath waiting for his throw.

This time his throw is much better. 

The knifes flies straight at the Plutonian but his reflexes are lighting fast as he ducks to the side away from the knifes trajectory. A lump forms in my throat as I watch Michael miss his next shot, and the next, until he is down to his last one. 

By now the towering Plutonian stands a few feet away from him. I am so near, I can see Michael's bottom lip quiver as he throws his last knife directly at Commander Veron's chest. I barely make out the slim metal object flying through the air but the commander catches it with a single hand easily. 

My body stiffens and my eyes widen in horror as I watch the Plutonian walk up to Michael and hit him in the neck with the base of his palm. Michael flies back, clutching his neck and coughing loudly. 

The commander lifts him up by the collar and throws him against the pit wall. I hear a crack as Michael's head hits the hard stone, the sound easily reverberating through the tension filled silence around us.

Unlike the previous matches, no one is cheering for this and I can only guess that everyone has their eyes wide open, too afraid to even blink after the warning given previously. I don't dare turn to look at anyone else, afraid that Lazarus might be watching me. 

"Come on, get up and fight," Commander Veron looks disappointed as he bends down to lift Michael up again. 

"I can't. Pl--please give me another chance. Please. I'm begging you," Michael's eyes are red and I see tears flow freely down his face. He is clutching the back of his head with trembling hands. The sight causes my chest to constrict painfully and I want to look away so badly. 

The Plutonian huffs in disappointment as he drags Michael to the area right in front of us. I almost feel angry at Michael for begging. Everyone knows how much the Plutonian's hate begging as it is the biggest sign of weakness. 

Michael doesn't bother struggling, he doesn't thrash or fight back but his begging rings in my ears like the alarms attached to our beds in the slave quarters. Persistent and unavoidable. I will myself to shut them out but I can't.

"Please. Please don't. I don't wa--want to die. Pleaseee," His wails cause the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on edge. 

I shift uncomfortably as Commander Veron pushes him on his knees in front of him facing the audience. 

Michael's flings his head around desperately as he scans the rows of spectators before him and it is dreadfully convenient that we have been made to sit right in front of him. His eyes meet mine and for a moment I wish I would explode into a thousand pieces and float into space away from here. 

I can't close my eyes, or look away and there no possible way for me to apologize through that one miserable glance. 

My stomach tightens and then convulses as the commander places his hands below Michael's chin. 

I stare at Michael, who seems to be staring absently into space but directly in our direction. He has stopped begging and the only reaction from him is the tears that stream down his cheeks. 

The commanders fingers wrap around his chin and neck, spreading out to clutch him. 

"Please...don't," Michael whispers and my chest hurts so bad, I feel like crying out in pain. 

Seconds feel like hours and for a moment time stands still as I watch the commander twist Michael's head to an unimaginably painful angle. I hear a loud snap and my eyes water as I see Michael's head hang loosely beneath Commander Veron's large hands.

I watch the commander release him. Watch his body crumple head first onto the hard floor like a broken doll. 

And then I close my eyes. 

Heyy, that was an intense chapter. Does anyone feel as bad as I do for Michael? Anyway hope you enjoyed!