"Strong wills are beautiful."
Holwas' voice remained soft as he sat before Klen, fingers folded neatly together while the dim lanternlight danced across the countless tools surrounding them. The room smelled faintly of iron now. Blood. Old blood. Fresh blood. Klen could no longer tell the difference.
Holwas leaned back slightly in the chair, studying him with an expression that almost resembled admiration.
"They shine brighter than anything else. Men who cling to themselves even while the world tears them apart…" His smile widened faintly. "I love people like that."
For a moment, silence filled the room except for Klen's strained breathing.
Then Holwas continued.
"And that," he whispered, "is why I love destroying them."
Klen's eyes narrowed.
Holwas' voice became calmer, almost thoughtful, as if discussing art rather than torture. "Breaking bones is simple. Any brute can do that. Breaking flesh is easy. Fear is easy." His fingers lightly tapped against his knee. "But the mind… the will… watching someone lose themselves piece by piece until there is nothing left inside them…" He exhaled slowly, almost pleased. "That is true beauty."
Klen said nothing.
Holwas stood from the chair and slowly walked toward the table lined with instruments. "The strongest people are always the most fascinating," he murmured while running his fingers across polished metal. "Because when they finally break…" He glanced over his shoulder. "They break so beautifully."
His smile stretched wider.
"And after that, I open them."
The room became quiet.
Klen stared at him for several seconds before looking away with visible disgust. That was enough. More than enough.
On the other side of the arena complex, Marna paced restlessly near the holding area while Eira sat nearby in uneasy silence. Torches flickered along the walls, casting shifting shadows across the stone corridor. The deeper parts of the colosseum always felt colder before matches began, but tonight the air carried something heavier with it.
Klen still had not returned.
Marna clicked her tongue for what felt like the hundredth time and looked down the hallway again. "What the hell is taking so long?"
Eira hugged her spear quietly. "Maybe his injuries were worse than we thought…"
"No." Marna immediately shook her head. "Something's wrong."
Before Eira could respond, armored footsteps echoed through the corridor. A guard approached them with several others behind him.
"Get ready," he said flatly. "You're being called to the arena."
Both girls frowned immediately.
Marna folded her arms. "What?"
"The next match begins shortly."
Eira stood up at once. "Wait, where's Klen?"
"He remains in recovery."
Marna's expression darkened instantly. "Bullshit. We're not going anywhere without him."
The guard didn't react. "You don't have a choice."
Marna stepped forward aggressively. "Listen carefully, you armored piece of—"
Before she could finish, another guard grabbed her arm and began dragging her toward the preparation gate.
"Hey!" Eira shouted.
"He requires further treatment," the first guard said coldly. "You two will proceed without him."
Marna struggled violently against the grip. "Let go of me!"
The guard ignored her completely.
As they were forced down the corridor, one of the men muttered something without looking back.
"Don't worry," he said. "Your opponent tonight is a nice one."
The way he said it only made the atmosphere worse.
The arena above roared with life.
Golden lights illuminated the massive colosseum while nobles filled the upper balconies in lavish clothing, their voices blending together into a constant sea of conversation. Servants hurried between seats carrying wine while musicians played near the edges of the viewing platforms. Tonight wasn't merely another fight.
It was the finale.
A lone commentator stepped into the center platform overlooking the arena floor and spread his arms dramatically.
"My honored lords and ladies!" he shouted as the crowd gradually settled. "Welcome to the grand finale of this glorious spectacle!"
Applause echoed throughout the arena.
The commentator smiled broadly. "First, Master sends his deepest apologies for his absence tonight. Urgent matters require his attention elsewhere."
Several nobles exchanged glances at that. A few whispered quietly among themselves, clearly surprised Holwas would miss the final battle after overseeing the games personally for so long. Still, none of them cared enough to press further. Entertainment remained entertainment.
The commentator raised his voice again.
"And now… the final match!"
The crowd erupted immediately.
"After surviving every challenge placed before them, the rising underdogs who clawed their way through blood and death itself…" He pointed dramatically toward one of the gates. "Versus the undefeated champion of the arena…"
His smile sharpened.
"Two Faced."
The massive gates groaned open.
Marna stepped into the arena first with her bow slung across her back and daggers secured around her waist. Eira followed beside her, gripping her spear tightly while scanning the enormous crowd surrounding them.
The cheering felt distant.
Wrong.
Marna leaned slightly closer to Eira while keeping her eyes ahead. "This is bad."
Eira swallowed quietly. "...Yeah."
"He should be here."
Neither of them said Klen's name after that.
High above them, several nobles frowned as they noticed only two fighters entering the arena floor.
"There were three before, weren't there?"
"What happened to the boy?"
"Did he die?"
The questions slowly spread across nearby seats until one noble finally called out toward the commentator directly. "Where is the third member?"
The commentator's smile twitched slightly.
"He remains under medical care," he answered smoothly before immediately turning back toward the arena. "Now then…"
He raised his arm.
"Let the final match begin!"
Far away from the roaring arena, deep within the dark forests beyond the city walls, silence filled a small wooden room.
Lyra sat motionless against the corner like a discarded doll.
Bruises covered nearly every visible inch of her skin. Dark purple marks stained her arms and legs while rope burns circled her wrists in deep angry red. Her hair hung in tangled strands over her face, and her unfocused eyes stared blankly at nothing.
The door creaked open.
The two men responsible for capturing her stepped inside.
One frowned immediately. "Damn."
The other clicked his tongue in annoyance while looking her over. "She's finished."
Neither pity nor guilt existed in their voices.
They stared at her the way someone might stare at broken merchandise.
Her protector never came.
The suffering continued day after day until eventually something inside her finally shattered completely.
Now she barely reacted even when they stood directly in front of her.
The taller man sighed. "No point keeping a living corpse around."
The other nodded. "Throw her out."
Not long after, Lyra found herself outside for the first time in what felt like forever.
Cold wind struck her face immediately.
She stood there silently for several moments, staring blankly ahead while snow drifted slowly through the dark forest around her. Thin rags clung uselessly to her trembling body, offering almost no protection from winter's freezing air.
Then her eyes slowly lowered toward her wrists.
The red rope marks.
Something inside her cracked.
A weak sound escaped her throat before tears suddenly poured from her eyes uncontrollably.
"He…" Her voice trembled violently. "He left…"
Her legs gave out beneath her as sobs tore through her chest.
The one person she desperately believed would save her never came.
"Klen…"
She cried like a child lost in the dark, stumbling aimlessly through the frozen forest while tears blurred her vision completely. Branches scraped against her skin. Bushes tore at her legs. More than once she slammed directly into trees she could no longer properly see.
Still she wandered.
"Father…"
Her voice broke apart from the cold.
Another step.
"Fole…"
Snow crunched beneath her bare feet.
"Marna…"
Then finally—
"Klen…"
The forest gave no answer.
Her vision had become little more than distorted shapes through endless tears. She wandered farther and farther into the darkness until suddenly the ground beneath her disappeared entirely.
Lyra slipped.
For one terrifying second, her body hung weightless.
Then she fell.
Her body slammed violently against jagged rock before crashing farther down the cliffside. The final impact struck her head hard enough to silence everything instantly.
The cold winter night swallowed her unmoving body.
Not long afterward, two men collecting firewood nearby heard the distant sound.
They followed it cautiously through the dark until one of them suddenly froze.
"There's someone down there!"
The two hurried down the slope as carefully as they could before finding Lyra unconscious among the rocks below.
"…She's still breathing."
"Quick. Help me lift her."
Without wasting another moment, the two men carried her toward the city through the freezing night.
Far beneath the arena, Klen screamed.
The sound echoed violently through the stone chamber while blood dripped steadily from the edge of the table beside him. Holwas stood calmly nearby holding a bloodied hammer in one hand.
Klen's fingers bent unnaturally.
Several had already been crushed completely.
Holwas watched him carefully, waiting for tears. Begging. Anything.
Instead Klen glared at him through ragged breathing, sweat pouring down his face from unbearable pain.
Holwas smiled faintly. "You really are extraordinary."
Klen spat blood onto the floor near his feet. "Keep your damned mouth shut…"
His voice trembled from pain but his eyes still burned with hatred.
"Creep."
Holwas' smile widened slightly.
Klen forced himself to keep speaking despite the agony pulsing through his shattered hand. "Someone suffered far worse than this…" His breathing shook violently. "So do your worst."
For a second, Holwas simply stared at him.
Then he laughed.
Not loudly.
Quietly.
Almost lovingly.
"You see?" he whispered to himself. "Beautiful."
He set the hammer aside before reaching toward the table and picking up a pair of heavy metal pliers.
"Now then…" His eyes gleamed in the lanternlight. "Since your fingers are unusable anyway…"
Klen's expression darkened.
Holwas grabbed one broken finger firmly.
"…let's continue."
The scream that followed sounded less human than before.
One by one, Holwas tore the shattered fingers away while blood splattered across the floor beneath the chair. Yet even through unbearable agony, Klen refused to beg. His body trembled violently. Tears mixed with sweat across his face from sheer pain alone, but his eyes never lowered.
That only drove Holwas further.
The room descended into madness after that.
Blades sliced into flesh.
Hooks tore skin apart.
Needles pierced muscle.
Holwas moved through instruments with obsessive fascination, wounding Klen again and again like an artist unable to stop refining his work.
And through all of it—
Through the agony.
Through the blood.
Through the darkness threatening to consume his thoughts—
Klen prayed silently inside his own mind.
Please…
Please let Lyra be safe.