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The cacophony around me suddenly felt overwhelming.
I needed to center myself.
Finding a quiet corner, I sank into a meditative posture, focusing on my breath and visualizing the fights ahead.
The lessons from my past bouts flashed through my mind, guiding me in anticipating moves, counters, and strategies.
I felt a strange sense of serenity.
The anxiety and doubts were replaced with clarity and purpose.
I was fighting for Violet.
For us.
And that was worth any risk.
I snatched up a sword and shield, opting for minimal armor.
As the countdown to the fight began, I rose to my feet, limbered up, and approached the pit entrance.
Other fighters eyed me with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.
Whispers circulated, some recalling my previous prowess in the ring, while others doubting my chances after such a long hiatus.
Ignoring the chatter, I took one last deep breath and mentally prepared myself.
Win or lose, I was going to give this everything I had.
Violet was the beacon guiding me, the light at the end of this tumultuous tunnel.
As I stepped onto the gritty floor of the pit, the roar of the crowd enveloped me.
Glancing up at the massive screen displaying the day’s odds, my name sat at the bottom.
The underdog.
But sometimes, the underdog has the most to fight for.
* * *
The moment I stepped onto the gritty floor of the pit, the crowd’s fervor reached fever pitch.
The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, like a charged storm cloud, ready to unleash its fury.
Opposite me stood Jark, a beast of a man, or rather, creature.
He was a Gomlian, a species known for their brute strength and very short tempers.
Towering over me, Jark was a menacing sight, muscles rippling beneath his greenish-brown skin, and sharp tusks protruding from his lower jaw.
“Well, look who it is. The ‘legend’ returns,” Jark sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Hope you kissed your loved ones goodbye. I’m gonna tear you apart.”
I took a steadying breath, focusing on the rhythms of my own heartbeat.
As a seasoned fighter, I was no stranger to the pre-fight banter, the attempts to unnerve and provoke.
But Jark was an artisan of annoyance.
