Kaden Vars
“Let’s get going kid," I heard the man sigh impatiently as he motioned me through the door. My heart sank as I followed him down the desolate hallway. I had been through similar hallways during maintenance rounds as an Apprentice Engineer aboard the Antaris, though never in this part of the ship.
I couldn't help but let my mind wander once more, as it often did when I was nervous. This giant ship was never supposed to launch into space with the other seven Castles. It was never supposed to be built at all. The spaceship’s built-in secret amidst the chaos taking over the world. An underground haven for the poor, who could not afford passage aboard the other Castles. We had a right to live, and not be left as scraps, and we brought as many as we could take with us. But it cost us dearly.
The ship was now overpopulated and lacked the resources to sustain everyone. As a result, they created the Arena, a battle that forces unlucky participants to endure a kill or be killed situation once more. I could hear uncomfortable grunts as the large man shuffled through the hall. Being only five-foot-seven with a light build, I moved through the tight corridors with no issue.
The growing clamor of the crowd snapped my mind back to the reality of my fate. The arena was just ahead, and all I could think about was how the hell I was going to survive. I ran nervous fingers through my spiky hair– a midnight blue that wasn’t common aboard the Antaris – that grew more wild and unkempt with each day. I was wearing my uniform which consisted of; worn and dirty greaves tucked into a pair of charcoal boots, a leather rust-colored jacket, and a pair of goggles pressed against my forehead that Laros had given to me as a gift years ago.
What would he think of all this? I had never been in combat before, but I was fairly strong and, for some reason, durable. I always shrugged it off, because odd jobs and becoming a better mechanic seemed easier. Being able to lift heavy objects and get into places most people couldn’t was a plus. Even so, I wasn't sure if I was prepared for this fight. However, if I wanted to return alive, I had to win.
I had to survive.
"Here we are," the burly guard grunted as he looked at me with pity. I glanced into the dimly lit room in front of me and heard the crowd above grow louder.
Then I heard the sharp creak of the rusty door closing behind me, followed by a loud thud. It was time. There was no going back now. Only forward. As the lift descended, the roaring sea of spectators grew even louder and the sound of the blaring caution alarm from the lift seemed soft compared to the uproar above.
A sliver of light from the arena above pierced the dark room as I waited for the platform to descend. Aboard stood a tall figure whose face became obscured, masqueraded with shadow as the lift approached my level. The person stood tall, larger than the guard that had brought me to the room. If I didn’t know any better I would have mistaken him for an Entrati standing on its hind legs. When the platform got lower, I noticed something else on the platform floor.
A motionless shape. A body.
A dead body.
What the hell.
My heart was pounding in my chest as I stepped onto the platform. The fear that had gripped me moments before was still there, but now it was mixed with a fierce determination to survive. I had to win this match, no matter what it took.
As the lights flashed on and illuminated the room, I realized I had accidentally dug my nails into my already bloody palms from the clenched fist I had made. I took a moment to look around.
When the platform reached the floor, the door on the opposite of the room creaked open. Two more guards appeared, both as large as the one who led me to the room.
Without a word, they walked onto the platform and checked the body on the floor for any signs of life. A shake of the head confirmed what everyone already knew. They then covered the body and carried it away.
They'll probably dump the body in space and let it drift into the cold nothingness.
The victor of the previous match – now standing in the light – remained on the other side of the platform, only glaring at me and cracking his neck. He had long hair that covered the majority of his face, but a crooked grin peeked through. His biceps had to have been bigger than my head, He had a snake-like tattoo wrapped around his right arm that indicated he was a member of the Sands gang, a shady bunch that caused problems for everyone.
The arena was filled to capacity with bloodthirsty spectators, all eagerly waiting to see who would be the next victor. Some were shouting and cheering, while others were more subdued, their eyes fixed on the platform in front of them.
The guards who had escorted me to the room were massive, each one easily twice my size. They moved with a precision that spoke of years of training, their eyes constantly scanning the room for any signs of trouble.
The victor of the previous match was a towering figure, his massive biceps rippling with muscle as he cracked his neck. His hair was long and unkempt, and a crooked grin played across his face. I could feel his eyes on me, sizing me up and calculating his chances of victory.
I took a deep breath and stepped onto the lift, trying to ignore the rust and blood that stained the floor. The man across from me was silent, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. I knew he was thinking about how he would kill me, how he would tear me limb from limb.
The lift began to ascend, and the noise of the spectators grew louder and more frenzied. The caution alarms sounded again, adding to the already intense atmosphere.As I step onto the lift, a sense of foreboding washes over me. I know that I'm about to face the fight of my life, and the possibility of not making it out alive is real. I felt the weight of the crowd's eyes upon me.
In addition to fear and apprehension, a sense of anger and frustration was also boiling. I was angry at the system that forced me and so many others to fight for our survival. I was frustrated that there seems to be no way out of this situation. It felt so unjust that we were forced to fight and kill each other, just to stay alive.
My mind was drawn back to the dead body that the guards took away. I couldn’t help but wonder who it was and how they ended up in the arena. Did they fight for their life? Or maybe they just gave up and accepted their fate.
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the lift coming to a stop, which also caused me to lose some balance. My heart raced, and my palms were slick with sweat. I knew that I;d have to fight with everything I have if I want to make it out alive.
Looking around the arena, I saw that the spectators were hungry for blood. They shouted and cheered, the majority urged us on as the match was about to begin.
It made me sick to my stomach to see people so eager to watch others kill each other. Sicker than the situation had already made me feel. I couldn’t help but wonder what happened to humanity, to make us so cruel and callous. Then I realized, we were always like this.
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