Arkon

ARKON

T he stale air of the holding cell filled my lungs as I paced, my muscles coiled tight with anticipation. Today was the day. The day of the fight. The day of our escape.

Around me, the other fighters prepared in their own ways. Some sat in silent meditation, others shadowboxed in the cramped space. The air buzzed with nervous energy.

I caught Renak’s eye across the room. A slight nod passed between us. He knew the plan. So did a handful of others. But most remained oblivious, cannon fodder for what was to come.

My mind raced, torn between focusing on survival and plotting our escape. Every instinct screamed at me to fight, to win, to live another day. But Samira’s face floated before me, a constant reminder of why I had to do more than just survive.

The cell door clanged open. Guards flooded in, herding us towards the arena entrance. As we marched, I strained my senses, searching for Samira. Her scent, her heartbeat, anything. But the roar of the crowd drowned out all else.

We emerged into blinding light. The arena sprawled before us, a massive circular pit ringed by towering walls. Sand crunched beneath my feet, already stained dark with old blood.

My gaze swept the viewing boxes high above. There. A flash of familiar brown skin, dark hair. Samira. She sat rigid, flanked by the looming forms of Dr. Zhen’la and Kreshnar.

A thunderous creaking drew my attention. Massive cages rose from trapdoors around the arena’s edge. Inside, monstrous shapes stirred. Tentacles. Claws. Fangs. My lip curled in disgust.

A horn blared. The cages burst open.

Chaos erupted.

Fighters scattered, some charging the beasts head-on, others fleeing in terror. I held my ground, assessing the situation. A six-armed monstrosity lumbered towards me, acid dripping from its maw.

I ducked under its first swipe and slammed my knuckles into its soft underbelly. It shrieked, doubling over. I vaulted over its back, using the momentum to crash my elbow into the skull of an approaching fighter.

All around me, the melee raged. A Krixian warrior grappled with a serpentine creature, its coils squeezing tighter and tighter. A pair of Mondian brothers stood back-to-back, fending off a swarm of winged horrors.

I fought strategically, conserving energy while making each blow count. A feint here, a devastating strike there. To the crowd, it must have looked like an all-out brawl. But I bided my time, waiting for the right moment.

Gradually, I noticed a shift in the chaos. Fighters who had been at each other’s throats moments before now stood shoulder to shoulder against the beasts. Subtle signals passed between those in on the plan. A nod. A hand gesture. A whispered word.

Confusion rippled through the arena staff. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The monsters should have thinned our numbers by now. Instead, we were organizing.

I locked eyes with Renak across the blood-soaked sand. He jerked his head towards Samira’s viewing box. It was time.

We began to move, a coordinated unit cutting through the mayhem. I led the charge, my fists and feet a blur of motion. A tentacled horror lunged at me. I seized two of its limbs, using its own momentum to hurl it into an oncoming fighter.

Wave after wave of monsters and opposing combatants fell before us. But for each one we felled, two more took its place. My muscles burned with exertion, but I pushed on. Samira was so close now. I could almost taste her scent on the air.

We reached the base of the arena wall. Just a little further. Just a little-

Renak’s roar split the air, a primal sound that cut through the chaos of battle. In an instant, the arena transformed. Fighters who had been locked in combat with beasts and each other suddenly turned as one, their attention shifting to the guards and arena staff.

I seized the moment and struck the nearby guard’s face with crushing force. His helmet crumpled under the impact, and he fell to the arena floor. All around me, similar scenes played out. Fighters used whatever they could get their hands on as weapons - broken cage bars, severed monster limbs, even handfuls of blood-soaked sand.

The crowd’s cheers turned to screams as they realized what was happening. Panic spread through the stands like wildfire. Spectators scrambled over each other, desperate to reach the exits.

I fought my way towards the arena wall, my eyes locked on the VIP box where I’d last seen Samira. A guard charged at me, energy baton crackling. I sidestepped his attack, grabbed his arm, and pushed him against the wall. The baton clattered to the ground. I scooped it up without breaking stride.

Fighters swarmed up the arena walls, using brute strength and makeshift grappling hooks to scale the sheer surface. I followed, my muscles straining as I pulled myself up. A stun bolt sizzled past my ear, close enough that I felt its heat.

I reached the top of the wall and vaulted over, landing in a crouch. The corridor beyond was chaos. Alarms blared. Emergency lights bathed everything in a pulsing red glow. I sprinted down the hallway, following signs for the VIP section.

A security team rounded the corner ahead, weapons raised. I didn’t slow down. I charged straight at them, using my superior speed and strength to close the distance before they could react. I slammed into the first guard, sending him flying into his comrades. In the confined space of the corridor, their numbers worked against them.

I lashed out with fists and feet, striking too fast to track. Bones cracked. Bodies fell. But not without cost. A glancing blow from an energy baton sent fire racing through my left side. I pushed through the pain, my determination to reach Samira overriding everything else.

The last guard went down, and I pressed on. Wait. Those were running footsteps ahead. More security, no doubt alerted by the commotion. I ducked into a side passage, using my knowledge of the facility’s layout to plot an alternate route.

The VIP section was close now. So close. My pulse skyrocketed, each beat reverberating through my entire body. Not from exertion, but from anticipation. From fear. What if I was too late? What if Zhen’la had already moved Samira?

I rounded a final corner and there it was - the door to the VIP box. Two guards stood outside, weapons drawn. They opened fire as soon as they saw me. I dove and rolled, coming up inside their firing arc. A quick series of strikes, and they joined their comrades on the floor.

I paused at the door, my hand hovering over the control panel. This was it. Samira was just on the other side. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever I might find.

The door slid open, and I burst into the room. My eyes darted around, searching desperately for Samira. There - a flash of brown skin, dark hair. Relief flooded through me.

But it was short-lived.

Dr. Zhen’la’s insectoid form loomed behind Samira, one of his four arms wrapped around her throat. Another held a blaster pressed against her temple.

“,” Zhen’la chittered, mandibles clicking. “How predictable.”