“Ladies and Gentlemen!!” The short, thin announcer standing on the pit yelled, more like high-pitched squeaking to me. That classic line used by criers to get everyone’s attention. Funny thing is the only females in attendance were the women-for-hire that the gentlemen – that is Ysle’s criminal elite and their chums – buy as companionship to make themselves look better.

“Are you ready to see blood in the Arena!?” the little man carried on, applause and cheering following suit. “Then tonight’s your lucky one! Be ready to witness lots of blood tonight!”

“Hey, kiddo!” a gruff voice behind me beckoned. “Got a message for ya…”

“Humph! Can’t wait until I’m done fighting?” I asked, not bothering to turn around to see my interloper.

“Unless ya wanna leave the place dead, ya better listen to it now!” the annoying voice continued. “If ya know what’s best, better drop this fight good! The boss’s willing to give ya a little something for the trouble. What say ya?”

“Tell your boss that I never fight to lose!” I smirked, finally turning my head a bit to give him a sideways glare. “Now scram, lapdog! You’re ruining my focus with that nasty growling you call a voice!”

“Suit yourself, kiddo…” the man grunted while his big lips curled into a grotesque smile “Ya’ been warned!” he remarked before leaving.

I see that shit almost every time in the pits. A big boss goes all-in on his “prized fighter”, then threatens the other fighter to let the guy win. If they’re so damn sure their boys are top dogs, let them prove it in a fair and square fight, for fuck’s sake!

“Without further ado, here are tonight’s first fighters! Let’s give ’em a big applause!” The announcer squeaked once more as the gate in front of me opened.

As I stepped into the circular arena and the audience in the stands started to cheer on, I caught a glimpse of the man bothering me earlier. I saw him whispering into the ear of another, richly-dressed, fat and bearded man. He didn’t say anything back, just nodded while giving me a brief, menacing glance. I just shrugged. Want me to lose, fatty? Better start praying to whatever gods you worship your guy is the real deal!

Speaking of which, he was a very tall and burly man of olive skin and long dark hair. He was wearing a leather kilt-like garment adorned with horse motifs, his chest, arms and legs completely bare to show off his muscles and… make me wet my pants, maybe? The wide belt keeping his kilt in place also held his twin battle axes. One of those horse-lover barbarians from the eastern grasslands, I surmised.

“Coming out the North Gate, standing six feet ten inches tall and weighing in eighteen and a half Stone, hailing from the Steedplains… Morcant the Rezan!” The audience cheered the giant quite enthusiastically, while he raised his arms and roared at me, in yet another attempt to intimidate me.

“Get out, kid! He’s gonna kill ya!” a very drunk man in the audience yelled.

“Ain’t no shame in quittin’… better live to fight another day!” another one seconded.

“Would be a pity if such a cute young man were to be horribly maimed, or worse!” One of the ladies on the stands lamented.

“And… coming out the South Gate, standing five feet eleven inches tall and weighing in eleven and three-quarters Stone, from Yeonbrooke… Wraith Dasher!”

Except for a few timid claps and hails from a couple of drunkards somewhere, everyone was dead silent. Like I care if they love me or not! I’m just standing in the damn arena to make money, not win their affections!

Morcant and I walked with a firm, deliberate step to the center of the fenced arena. The announcer reminded us of the match rules.

“Don’t forget this ain’t a fight to the death. Do spill as much blood as you possibly can, but don’t overdo it! We don't wanna have another incident so soon after the last one! Fool thought would be a good show cutting his opponent’s arms off! I mean... it certainly was! But the run-in with the guards? Not so much!”

Pit-fighting is illegal in Ysle, but to avoid closing the pits and possibly igniting an all-out war with the criminal gangs running them, the City guard turns a blind eye as long as they keep it clean, that is without deaths. I guess the Priestesses don’t mind a bit of blood as long as it doesn’t cost lives and keeps the criminal scum distracted. So much for preaching against violence!

“As soon as one of you guys is bloodied enough, yields or ends up unconscious, I’ll call the fight.” The announcer finalized his instructions. “May the Gods grant victory to the best fighter tonight!”

With that said the little man left the arena through the southern gate in a rush, and both gates closed as soon as he was on the other side. Morcant raised his axes and started to swing them vigorously, whooshing loudly as they cut through the air. I unsheathed my sword and got on guard.

The damned Rezan was faster than I expected for his size! His movements were lightning-fast and very precise, the twin axe-heads howling like hungry wolves before clashing loudly against the steel of my blade, pushing me backward. Morcant kept coming at me at a devilish speed, taunting me every now and then. Soon enough I started to read his movements, and the battle became a fierce exchange of blows, blocks and parries. This show kept the crowd at the edge of their seats, cheering and applauding excitedly. But the barbarian still had a slight speed and reach advantage, getting me squarely on my side. Were it not for my tough leather jerkin he might have broken a rib or two, but he still took some of my breath away.

“Shit!” Bastard had me on the defensive again! I had no choice but to step back with every hit until my back was against the steel fence. Morcant launched another big downward swing with his right ax. I dodged with a quick right-step, but hit me with his right knee, sinking into my gut with the strength of a damn stampede. I fell to the sandy floor, my blade slipping from my hands and rolling several feet away from me.

“Fuck!” I cursed under my breath.

The Rezan jumped, using his momentum to add more power to his downward double swing. The steel axe-heads hit the floor as I rolled my body sideways towards my sword. I took my weapon back, raised to my knees, and used the blade to block his next forward slash. The force of his attack almost made me fall to the floor again.

“Better yield, boy, or I might end up killing you!” Morcant kept his annoying taunts going on.

“Maybe you’d done that already if you didn’t babble so much, Rezan!” I retorted.

This angered him quite a bit. Using all of my strength, I raised back to my feet and pushed his axes back, creating an opening. I took advantage of it by cutting his belly with a sideways slash. I did my best to not go too deep, but I made him bleed quite profusely, lowering his chest in pain while covering the wound with his left axe. His left side guard now gone, I exploited this by scratching his left arm. A quick leftwards circular slash after that hit Morcant right on his back, causing yet another bloody gash and causing him to stumble.

“Damn you, Yeonbrookean!” he yelled while trying to hit me with his right axe.

His swing was slow and clumsy now, so I had little trouble dodging it. Another quick side attack was enough for my blade to bite once more into his flesh, slashing the Rezan’s right arm. His right axe slipped from his hand, and the grip on his left one started to falter.

With both arms out of commission, I simply had to kick him once in the gut, pummeling him hard on the chin after he fell to his knees; my last attack sent him crashing to the floor, barely conscious. The cheering and screaming on the stands came to an abrupt end. The South Gate opened and the announcer entered the arena to check on my opponent. When he confirmed that he was in no condition to continue he waved his arms.

“Ladies and Gentlemen…” He paused, not quite believing that Morcant was defeated. “Please give your applause to the winner of this bout… Wraith Dasher!”

Again indifferent clapping, probably from the same people that had done so earlier plus a few others. The rest of the audience was totally silent, and looked quite pissed off too!

“You made me lose a lot of money!” angrily yelled a man sitting behind me.

“Get out of here, punk!” another said as he threw a pewter cup into the arena.

“Take your damn gold and fuck off!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, incapable of hiding my smug face anymore. “Are you not entertained?”

The booing started in earnest as blunt objects started to rain into the arena. Still smiling, I rushed out of the ring, managing to bow a couple of times to “salute” my distinguished audience. The prize master was waiting for me with a purse full of gold. He wasn’t very pleased to hand it over to me. I took my hard-earned prize money, secured it on my belt, and left the parlor.

The richly dressed man and the ugly lackey from earlier were waiting for me outside. “Congrats on winning, boy!” the former said while golf-clapping. “You’ve certainly earned every coin in that bag! But you see, there is a slight problem with that…”

I arched my brows. “And that would be...?”

“I’d say that covers about the money I bet on Morcant plus what I would’ve won, had you not moped the arena with him. The way I see it, you owe me big time, son!”

“So it’s my fault your champ turned out to be a chump?” I shrugged. “Give me a break!”

“Ya got a death wish, kiddo, talking to the boss like that!” the rough-voiced fellow said as he approached, extending his right hand toward the bag hanging from my belt. “Now give me the money, and I promise not to rough ya up too-”

His low-pitched growling turned into a surprisingly loud and acute screech when my blade severed his hand from the rest of his arm.

“You’re not gonna make this easy for us, huh?” the wounded man’s boss said, oblivious to his underling’s agony.

I felt a couple of hands holding me from behind. I tried to wrestle free from their grasp, but they were very strong. The boss simply walked towards me and took the purse. He shook it, satisfied with the weight of the coins inside it before glaring at me.

“If you just gave it up without too much fight… Now I have to pay a Temple Healer to patch up not just Morcant, but my man as well. I’ll have to take some more from you, but since you’re penniless now, a bit of blood will do…”

The boss nodded to the guys holding me. One of them turned me around and punched me so hard in the stomach that my armor made very little difference. I immediately heaved as I fell to my knees. His partner walked around and grabbed me by the hair. He yanked me up from my kneeling position, his pal helping by holding my shoulders. As soon as I was back on my feet the guy pulling my hair let go of it to punch me on the jaw.

“Beat him good, don’t kill him,” the boss said, smiling. “Dead men learn no lessons! Would be a waste to kill such a talented fighter too. Maybe after the lesson seeps into his little brain he can be of use… and you!” he turned to the man whose hand I’ve severed. “Pick that up and come! The sooner the Healers see to it the better!”

As the boss and his henchman left, the other two busied themselves beating the living shit outta me. At least they had the prudence of not blacking me out. My body hurt like hell when they were finally done with me.

“Hope this teaches you to not mess with the boss, idiot!” one said after spitting on the ground.

“Let’s go before a guard shows up!” the other one urged his partner.

“Damn… it!” I groaned as I struggled to get up. Bastards might’ve broken a rib or two!

As I limped my way around I tried to focus and ponder my options. With no gold in my pockets, the assistance of the Healer chicks from the Temple was no option. The money helps keep the Hospices running, they love to spittle.

Besides, with my current luck, a guard would most likely come up and start asking questions. “Oh, a crime lord’s goons ripped me a new one after I dared to make him lose a huge bet at the pits!” They’d probably throw me in the dungeon for being just plain stupid!

So my only choice was to find a store and “borrow” any healing items they might have. Being so late in the night I wasn’t expecting to find any open shops, making my task easier. I found one with a back-entrance I could use to sneak in unnoticed. The lock was rather flimsy, so I had not much trouble picking it open.

Once inside I moved as silently as I could. There were plenty of potions and other items useful for first aid, as well as some food and drink. I helped myself to a vial full of glowing liquid. It tasted like crap, but I started feeling better almost immediately. By morning all aches, bruises and broken bones would be gone. I took a few extra potions and some dried meat, bread and ale for my dinner.

I left the same way I entered, closing the door slowly to avoid making any noise. Once the lock was again in its place I walked away, sipping ale and munching on a piece of bread. That’s when I noticed a pair of eyes watching me from behind a pile of crates.

“Who’s there?” I said while closing my right hand over my sword’s hilt.

I heard some rustling, and a small, grime-smudged face emerged from behind the crates. It was a little boy. Or was it a girl? A street urchin, in any case. His clothes were all torn and dirty, and he wasn't wearing any shoes. The little thing looked at my food with big, pleading eyes.

“Hungry?” I asked, and the munchkin nodded slowly.

I took a piece of bread and some dried meat and offered them to him. He was hesitant, as if fearing I would hurt him as soon as he was within my reach.

“Here, have some,” I insisted, and the kid finally approached timidly.

“It’s alright. I know what’s to be hungry at your age, no one giving you something to eat. Come! this is too much food for me, anyway.”

The urchin was now close enough to extend his arm and take the food. He quickly returned to his hideout and started to devour it, his eyes always on me. His lips finally curled into a little smile and said with a weak, weary voice:

“Th-thank you…”

I smiled back at him and nodded before turning around to leave.

I don’t mind fucking a mob boss’ day up by making him lose money in the pits. That’s his fault for betting on the wrong guy! It’s not like he’s going to go to bed with an empty belly, anyway! The boss I messed up with? He’ll go to bed after having a feast, most likely with two cute girls under each arm – or perhaps two handsome boys, if that’s his fancy.

Anyone wanna pick a fight with me? They’ll get it. I don’t cower from anyone. If I die, so be it; I’ll be just another corpse at the end of the day, but I’d have died my own way, no regrets.

If I have money to buy my stuff, I’ll do it; if not, I’ll steal. I’ve been doing it since I was even younger than the urchin I’ve just fed. If that makes me a “bad guy”, so be it.

What I’ll never do, however, is taking advantage of those in a shittier position than mine. And if I can help them somehow, I will. That’s so much more than most self-righteous “good guys” in this World would ever do for them.