Ty’s expression darkened. "You should just kill me if you feel like that," he retorted.
"Too quick," the King replied smoothly. "Trust me, the fun will come in due time."
The King clapped his hands once more. At his signal, two guards stepped forward, making it clear it was time to move.
They began to lead Ty away from the drawing area, guiding him towards the next phase of the pre-Arena processes.
As Ty was ushered away, he tugged at the new fabric around him. "Good thing I gave Jade’s silk string away... else I would be really pissed," he muttered under his breath, relieved and annoyed at the same time.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Waddle and the old man stepping up for their turn, while Gears, another familiar face, queued quietly at the back.
"Ain’t I supposed to see what this Arena is going to look like?" Ty called out, seeking some clarity on the process.
One of the guards, without breaking stride, replied, "The layout will be decided once everyone has been selected and finished."
"Hmm, I see," Ty murmured, more to himself than to anyone else as he was led down a series of steps. His boots echoed on the stone beneath them, each step taking him deeper into the heart of the structure.
They arrived at a large square room with high walls trimmed in dark purple. The patterns caught the weak lamp light and made the stone look deeper than it was.
Cool air settled over the floor. Ty’s gaze moved to the heavy doors on the opposite wall, shut tight as if the room had been built to hold its breath.
The only sounds came from the guards’ boots against stone.
Small oil lamps hung from metal sconces along the walls. Their flames stayed low and steady, barely enough to show the scattered chairs along one side.
The floor was polished dark stone, reflecting the little light there was and making the room feel larger than it needed to be.
Every small sound carried.
Even his own breathing sounded too loud down here.
Ty counted exits out of habit. The doors behind him, the heavy set across the room, and no windows that he could see. The guards had relaxed once they got him downstairs, which told him they trusted the building more than the restraints.
That bothered him more than the cuffs.
He rolled his shoulder once, testing how much the new outfit pulled across his arms. The fabric moved cleanly with him, free of snags or stiffness. Whoever made it had planned for fighting, running, and probably bleeding all over it.
At least the arena had manners before trying to kill him.
The quiet gave him too much space to think about the people above. Waddle had looked nervous. Gears had looked like a man forcing courage into his own spine. The old man had probably already lied twice before touching his numbered ball.
Ty flexed his fingers inside the cuffs and imagined the key Rusuf had handed him. The weight of it was small, but the meaning was heavy. Rusuf trusted him just enough to give him one option and feared him enough to make that option hurt if misused.
Fair enough.
He would save it until the moment mattered.
As he adjusted to the quiet, the doors opened again, breaking his contemplation.
A tall man, around seven feet in height and dressed in the same attire as Ty, stepped into the room and gave it a quick survey, much like Ty had done earlier.
The tall man approached Ty, his expression sour. "Ugh, being paired with a prisoner would be one thing, but the damn demon? Now that’s a new low. Almost makes me want to drop out right on the spot," he grumbled.
Ty, unfazed by the comment, shot back with a smirk. "And where’s the fun in that? Don’t want to soil your family name being known as the tall boy who tucked his tail and ran."
The tall man scoffed, annoyance clear on his face. "Whatever, not like I’m afraid of you. I could probably even kill you right now as you are still shackled."
"I’m sure that would go over well," Ty retorted, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Besides, what’s your name unless you want me to call you lanky?"
The man bristled at the nickname, his eyes narrowing. "Lanky?! My name is Kern, not that it matters to you."
Ty listened, his interest piqued. "Well, Kern, we might get to rip each other apart in the second arena or whatever comes after this. But for now, we’ll have to work together a bit--that’s if we’re even on the same team.
What number did you pull from the weird slot machine?"
Kern sighed, half annoyed and half amused. "I pulled 10, funny enough. I thought it was broken because I was ranked 10 after the showcase event."
Ty furrowed his brow, processing the information. "Wait, didn’t they state they would be doing all the prisoners first then you folks? Why is it that you’re the first one to enter?"
Kern shrugged, a hint of confusion in his demeanor. "I know a lot of them kept the orange color, but halfway through, one of the prisoners tried to strike the king. So while that was being handled, they started mixing people--"
Before Kern could finish, the door swung open once more. Another man entered, donning purple gear similar to theirs, standing about 6’4".
The interruption seemed timed, as if to prevent further probing into the irregularities of the selection process. Ty and Kern paused their conversation, turning their attention to the new arrival who paused briefly to assess the room and its occupants.
Kern looked over at him and said, "Aw great, it’s Gisorn."
Ty blinked. "Who?"
"Some kid I was in the academy with. He’s stuck-up and never shows much emotion. His Skill also makes him harder to read."
Gisorn walked up to the group. "What number did you two get?" he asked, face blank.