When the following day arrived, one of their group members had their first planned fight. Luna was slated to face Tarren, another human competitor, at 1430 hours. Five feet nine and weighing about a hundred and sixty pounds, Tarren was of average human build, but he had a strong reputation as a fierce opponent. His usual loadout included a small submachine gun, a brace of throwing knives, half a dozen concussion grenades, and a flexible, lightweight carbon-composite lance. Although he was dangerous at long range, close quarters fighting and hand-to-hand confrontations were his known weaknesses. BattleWeb, the galaxy-wide network that provided fighter statistics, known physiological characteristics, preferred weapons, and combat records, was how Luna had obtained this information before the match. Any registered fighter could access comprehensive dossiers on almost every other known competitor across the gladiatorial circuits by logging into BattleWeb with their unique login credentials.
Kieran, Yan, Nayla, and Nora were seated ringside in the gladiators' section, prepared to watch Luna's match when the hour of 1430 swiftly arrived. With differing degrees of nervous expectation, they awaited the arrival of the fighters. With his slate-gray armor gleaming in the intense Celyran sun, Tarren was the first to enter the arena. The parts of the audience that supported him in the betting pools erupted in cheers as he strode to the center of the arena, brandishing his submachine gun and lance. Then he started where he was supposed to, close to one side of the arena, facing the gate that Luna would come out of.
A few moments later, Luna walked quietly and unobtrusively into the arena. Calmly, she crossed the sand to her own starting position and stood still, awaiting the start of the signal. The fighters had agreed before the fight that they would fight to surrender, not to die. Tall trees and a soft floor covered in fallen pine needles characterized the densely simulated forest arena terrain used for this match. They started off standing on different sides of this forest. As soon as the starting klaxon sounded, Luna pulled out her sword, the ferocious weapon she had obtained on Dorran 6, and vanished into the trees. Tarren moved more slowly, his lance at the ready as he entered the forest, his eyes searching the thickets for any movement.
The enormous audience in the stands sat quietly, listening carefully, their gazes fixed on the enormous viewscreens positioned throughout the arena. Nayla was much more adept than the others at following the action, aside from Kieran. She was able to determine the precise position and movement of both fighters in the simulated woods thanks to her keen feline ears, which could detect even the smallest sounds, such as a snapping twig or the rustle of armor. Kieran soon discovered that by watching the slight movements and rotations of Nayla's perceptive ears, he could determine their approximate locations. Nayla's ears turned sharply after a tense minute or two of silent maneuvering. She leaned in closer to her friends and uttered the following urgently:
"Contact is on the way. closing distance quickly.
The others automatically leaned forward and gazed intently at the viewscreens showing the interior of the forest. The arena reverberated with the staccato, sharp bark of submachine gun fire a moment later.
Luna had been spotted by Tarren. In order to transmit close-up action feeds to the enormous arena viewscreens, camera drones that had been passively hovering above the canopy quickly dove towards the scene of the shooting. Now the screens showed Luna tearing through the trees toward Tarren, a small assault rifle clutched in her left hand and her evil sword ready in her right. Tarren quickly withdrew, shooting bursts at the black-armored figure that was approaching with his submachine gun. The projectiles bounced off Luna's matte-black armor without causing any damage. Tarren fumbled for a new magazine and hurriedly ejected the spent one, but Luna got close before he could finish reloading. He left the empty gun behind and held his carbon lance tightly in both hands, preparing to repel Luna's inevitable melee attack.
She started with a vicious high slash that was aimed straight at Tarren's neck; if it had struck cleanly, it could have decapitated him. Instinctively, Tarren raised the lance shaft above his head in a horizontal motion, deflecting Luna's blade with a sharp clang of metal on carbon composite. She returned with ease, keeping her equilibrium, and was immediately prepared to defend or strike back. Pressing his advantage, her opponent launched a barrage of quick thrusts at her torso with the tip of the lance. Luna blasted the lance point violently aside before it could gain traction on her armor, responding to each thrust with quick, economical parries. Tarren disengaged, taking a few steps back to gain distance and use his ranged weapons after realizing the pointlessness of confronting Luna up close.
He retrieved his throwing knives from the sheath in a flash, drew one fluidly, took deliberate aim, and threw with practiced speed. Luna easily avoided the first gleaming blade. The second she avoided with equal ease. However, she was caught off guard by the third knife, which was thrown with deceptive speed right after the second. It hit true, settling securely in the thin, pliable space between the vambrace and left pauldron armor plates. Luna grimaced violently inside her helmet at the unexpected pain, but she remained remarkably composed as she reached across with her right hand and pulled the embedded knife free with a single, forceful pull. She could already feel the muscles around the wound stiffening, but her left arm was still working. With disdain, she tossed the bloody blade to the forest floor and returned her unwavering attention to Tarren.
Even the viewscreens showed a flash of fear on Tarren's face. After receiving such a wound, most opponents would lose momentum and recoil in shock or pain. Like many before him, he had obviously underestimated Luna's iron self-control and terrifying pain threshold. If anything, her menacing appearance was enhanced by the sight of her standing idly in her night-black armor, dark blood now clearly flowing down her arm. In an apparent attempt to calm himself, Tarren shook his head and repositioned himself, ready to fight again.
With her blade whistling dangerously near Tarren's armor seams, Luna launched a ferocious barrage of slashes and stabs as she pressed her attack once more. Before catching him a little off balance and delivering a strong downward slash that completely broke through his right gauntlet, she delivered a series of glancing blows that chipped paint and scored the metal.
Tarren countered frantically, wincing, swinging his lance defensively in wide, quick arcs that pushed Luna back a few paces. He used his lance more like a quarterstaff. Luna was momentarily prevented from getting close by the whirling lance's speed and reach. Luna skillfully drew her own sidearm, the assault rifle she was carrying, and brought it to bear even as she increased the distance, preventing a melee opening. Tarren was stunned by the impact of her controlled burst, which struck his legs and chest. His equipment belt was cut by a single well-placed bullet, scattering his spare submachine gun magazines and remaining throwing knives on the pine needles. Tarren's ranged advantage had also been severely undermined, though the magazine of her rifle was probably now empty.
A tiring exchange of blows, parries, and maneuvers lasted for another fifteen minutes. Tarren then appeared to have a fortunate break. The tip of his lance briefly snagged in the hostile serrations close to Luna's sword hilt during a close-quarters bind.