As the guard locked Cyrus and the tall, slender youth into a pair of isolated cells, calling them their 'waiting rooms' before the fight, Cyrus looked at the remaining, half-eaten loaf of bread in his hands before choosing to wolf it down in one-go.
He'd deliberately saved half of it to eat it just before the fight, hoping that the sudden load of carbohydrates would provide just enough of a glucose rush to increase his performance, even if just barely.
Of course, Cyrus didn't understand the science behind it, or why eating his food all at once provided him with a short-term boost before exhaustion kicked in even more harshly later on, but he knew it worked for some reason.
Thus, ignoring the hard, almost rock-like sensation of the bread in his mouth that was mixed with the ground's dirt, he took a sip of water and chewed strongly, trying to make the most of his remaining time.
He only had a couple of hours before the fight began, and after stepping foot inside the Bloodpit, he knew he'd either leave there standing or… not at all!
''Damn it!''
A cry of resignation couldn't help but escape his mouth as the last piece of bread went down his throat, barely softening thanks to that large gulp of water he had taken alongside it. And yet, neither the inedible sensation of the stone-like bread nor the conditions of his cell were of any concern to Cyrus at this moment. No. The only thing that was on his mind right now was how to deal with that tall, long-limbed youth.
''Slave 298…'' Cyrus didn't know exactly how strong his opponent was, but both his notoriety and strength made him one of the most terrifying fighters he could be pitted against in the Bloodpit.
Putting aside the rumors of the youth being close to an Ironbound warrior, even if that wasn't the case, Cyrus knew he would be fighting an incredibly uphill battle.
After all, his opponent was not only a seasoned fighter who had spent 2 more years than him in the Red Arena, but he also had clear advantages over him in every physical aspect.
He was taller, potentially stronger, and had longer reach! Perhaps Cyrus could outmaneuver him considering his speed was one of his strongest qualities, but the more he thought about the upcoming fight, the more he realized how stacked the odds against him were!
Cyrus was good at masking his emotions… very good, in fact. This was why even though he'd recognized his opponent just by hearing his number, he hadn't shown any visible reaction other than plain curiosity. At least, he didn't think he had.
He didn't want to give the youth the satisfaction of seeing that he was lacking in confidence. At the very least, he had to let the man feel just as tense about their battle as he was!
And yet, in his heart, Cyrus understood how slim his chances this time were.
He tried to brainstorm, considering every available choice he could make that would give him even the tiniest edge in the battle, but there were very few things he could possibly do that would help bridge the gap between their physical abilities.
Time continued to pass like that, and finally, two hours later… the door of the 'waiting room' opened with another bang, as the giant guard entered inside. His gaze fixed on Cyrus under his helmet was just as cold and emotionless as the one from a few hours ago, almost as if he was looking at a corpse
''Get ready maggot, it's time to work. You have to earn your keep at least, don't you?''
The guard's cold voice echoed throughout the small room, and from the impatience in his tone, it was obvious he wasn't planning on wasting any more time waiting for Cyrus to prepare himself.
Turning around, the man then made his way towards the heart of the Red Arena, not even bothering to turn around and check if Cyrus was following him or not; He knew that the kid didn't have a choice. Both of them knew it. Regardless of where one went, the entire arena was full of guards. There was no illusion of choice here! These slaves could only fight or die!
Cyrus didn't know why, perhaps due to the increased pressure he was feeling from the upcoming fight or maybe due to the impossible odds he was facing, but this time, he didn't hold himself back as he faced the guard.
Instead, he stared at the man's massive back and said sarcastically
''Earn my keep? Did you forget that you, oh noble warriors of the Goddess, are the ones who abduct children and force them to fight to the death, all for a single loaf of bread? Ah, right, this must be the benevolence of the Goddess you all preach every day, isn't it?''
The guard's footsteps abruptly halted as the man turned around and stared down at Cyrus. The murderous look in his eyes wasn't concealed in the slightest, as the armored giant grabbed him by the collar of his tattered clothes and pinned him against the wall before he said with a snarl
''A maggot like you dares to speak of the Goddess' name with your filthy mouth? A pathetic worm like you without any divine affinity? It looks like you've forgotten your place after experiencing her benevolence!''
A moment later however, the guard unexpectedly relaxed his grip and let Cyrus land back on his feet as he continued
''You think we are abducting you maggots and use you to earn a profit, but you seem to forget that without us, most of you would have already died miserably out there. Trash with no divine affinity don't have a place anywhere in the continent, let alone in our Astrea Kingdom! At the very least, not only do we provide you with food and water after your fights, but we even give you hope to enter the ranks of Ironbound warriors in the future! Whether you succeed and regain your freedom or not, is entirely up to you!''
Cyrus couldn't help but widen his eyes as he looked at the guard. He could almost see the smirk hidden behind his helmet as the man looked at him with a blameless expression. Of course, Cyrus already knew that the benevolence these people were preaching of was hypocritical, and that everything relied solely on one's talent and divine affinity, but he couldn't believe that this bastard was openly mocking him with a straight face!
Unfortunately, Cyrus knew that there was no point in continuing this discussion. The guard was clearly twisting cruelty into kindness, and yet there was nothing he could say -truth didn't matter here!
Thus, Cyrus could only follow the man in silence as the two of them headed for the heart of the Red Arena, the Bloodpit!
…
Even before reaching the giant bronze door, Cyrus could clearly make out the hushed discussions, the animated arguments, and even the excited yelps that seeped through the door and entered his ears in a jumbled mess.
Although the Red Arena was an underground fighting ring and was technically illegal in all of Astrea, its existence was basically an open secret in the city of Morwyn, gathering more than a couple thousand spectators every night.
In fact, Cyrus knew that for some of the more 'anticipated' main events, the entire arena was fully packed despite its capacity of nearly five thousand spectators.
The slender, bony-like youth the guards called Slave 298, was already waiting in front of the door under the supervision of another guard by the time Cyrus and the giant guard arrived.
This time however, Cyrus could see that the tall teen was no longer ignoring his existence. No, there was a primal ferocity in the youth's eyes as he stared at him, clearly determined to go all out!
Cyrus barely had time to register the change in his opponent's expression though, before the two guards pushed open the bronze doors with both hands, causing the shouts of the crowd to turn even louder than before.
The vivid crimson of the countless grains of sand filling the Bloodpit, the cacophony of the animated voices that shouted for the fight to start, and even the light of the setting sun barely illuminating the place all entered Cyrus's vision one after the other, as his expression turned cold and emotionless once more.
This was his reality right now. Regardless of what the world out there was like, inside the Bloodpit one could only fight or wait to be slaughtered.
The same went for both Cyrus and the tall, bone-like youth.
As the two of them walked towards opposite ends of the arena, staring down at each other without a word, Cyrus cut off all distracting thoughts and focused solely on the opponent in front of him.
He'd now cut off that familiar yet never-welcome cold grip of fear that previously clamped his heart like an iron claw, along with any other uncertainties he had about the fight! No matter what, he had been through tough situations before and survived! He hadn't come out unscathed… but he'd survived!
The odds were stacked against him, yes, and this fight may even seem impossible at first glance, but this was nothing new. He could only win if he didn't want to die! There was nothing else to it!
As he calmed down his raging emotions, Cyrus gradually shifted his attention towards a certain spot in the stands, where a short old man was surrounded by more than a dozen guards. Naturally, Cyrus wasn't the only one to do so at that moment. The tall, slender youth and even the nearby spectators all seemed to have done the same, their expressions a mixture of anticipation, excitement, reverence, or flat-out hatred in the bony youth's case.
Cyrus's disgust and hatred was no less than the slender youth's, but to his credit, he managed to hide most of it as he stared at the man.
After all, the smiling old bastard sitting up there was the one who controlled everything in this place. The Red Arena was no different from his personal playground and everyone here knew it. Thus, despite his hobby of acting as the announcer for these main events, nobody took the luxuriously dressed old man as just another spectator.
With a slimy smile on his face, the old man looked around him and nodded in satisfaction, before his loud, grating voice echoed throughout the arena, forcefully suppressing any of the still-ongoing whispers
''Fellow guests, my Zyvarros family welcomes you to tonight's main event.''