13. Tix

The anteroom echoed with my restless footsteps.

I paced back and forth, trying to shake off the gnawing anxiety that had taken root in the pit of my stomach.

Every step was a heavy thud, resonating with the weight of my thoughts.

The room itself was dimly lit, casting shadows on the far walls that seemed to dance in time with my steps.

The stink of the pits wafted into the anteroom, a poignant reminder of the battle that awaited.

As I ran a hand through my hair, I felt the slickness of sweat coating my palms.

The texture of anxiety, no doubt.

I tried to focus on the gentle hum of the room's machinery, the slight vibrations under my feet.

Anything to distract from the growing dread.

Chius.

Just the name sent shivers down my spine.

He was a legend in the prison pits.

Towering and built like a fortress, he was as much a part of the pits as the sand and the crowd.

Every fighter knew his reputation.

Many had tried to best him, few succeeded.

And yet, I knew he had to have a weakness too, like everyone else.

But what?

As I mentally readied myself for the upcoming match, a sharp knock on the anteroom door broke my concentration.

I hesitated for a moment.

Visitors were a rarity, especially on the day of a match.

Curiosity piqued, I approached the door, my senses on high alert.

The handle felt foreign against my grip as I slowly opened it.

A guard stood outside, his posture stiff and face unreadable.

His hand extended, clutching a folded piece of paper.

Without a word, he thrust it towards me, waiting for me to take it.

"From one of the Prizes," he grunted, his voice rough, like gravel.

The note was slightly warm from his grip.

I nodded, silently accepting the message, too wrapped up in curiosity to question its origins.

As swiftly as he appeared, the guard turned and retreated, leaving me with the mysterious note.

I unfolded the paper, revealing a simple doodle.

The creature sketched upon it was familiar but foreign.

A long, serpentine body with scales that seemed to shimmer even in the dim light.

Three sets of eyes stared back at me, equally spaced along its head.

This was a Trioculus Serpens — a mythical creature from folklore.

Even on my planet, we were told tales of this creature's cunning and intelligence, its ability to hypnotize its prey with its mesmerizing gaze.

Why had Grace drawn it?

And what did it have to do with my impending match?

I traced the outline of the creature with my fingers, trying to understand the message behind it.

The texture of the paper was coarse and I could feel the subtle indentations where the artist had pressed harder with their instrument.

I tucked the note into my pocket, hoping it held the key to understanding what was to come.

As the final moments ticked down, the distant roar of the crowd filtered into the anteroom.

Their excitement was palpable, like static in the air, making my skin tingle.

I tried to recall every tale, every lesson about the Trioculus Serpens, hoping to glean some hint or strategy.

Was it a warning?

A piece of advice?

Or merely a token of encouragement?

Before I could unravel the message, the grand announcement echoed through the chambers.

My name, called out with all the pomp and grandeur reserved for the most anticipated fights.

The bright lights of the arena beckoned, and the deafening cheer of the spectators awaited.

I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the familiar, metallic air of the pits.

With the enigmatic note tucked away, serving as my secret weapon or perhaps just a puzzle to muse over, I stepped out into the bright, blinding light of the pit.

Whatever awaited me, be it victory or defeat, I knew one thing:

I wasn't alone in this fight.

* * *

The pit'ssand was cool beneath my boots as I stared up at Chius.

The massive creature loomed over me, his every breath causing the small granules of sand to dance around his feet.

His eyes, all four of them, locked onto mine with an intensity that could melt steel.

Chius's skin shimmered like molten obsidian, reflecting the harsh artificial lights that bathed the arena.

His scales were like interwoven pieces of armor, and his muscular build suggested that he was more than capable of crushing anyone in his grip.

What made Chius truly fearsome wasn't just his size or strength; it was the way he moved.

With grace and fluidity that betrayed his enormous stature, he circled me, each step calculated, each twitch of his tail purposeful.

The crowd's roars became a distant hum as my concentration narrowed to the beast before me.

The tension in the air was palpable, a dance of two warriors awaiting the other's move.

His reputation preceded him.

Chius wasn't just a beast; he was a seasoned fighter.

Many creatures his size would lunge headfirst, relying solely on their brute force.

Not Chius.

He was patient, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Like a viper.

Like the snake scribbling on the scrap of paper.

I could feel the weight of every gaze upon us, their collective breath held in anticipation.

A memory of Grace flashed in my mind, the soft touch of her hand, the comforting scent of her hair.

The image from the note she'd sent also surfaced — the Trioculus Serpens.

A creature known for its hypnotizing gaze and unparalleled cunning.

How could I use that against Chius?

I didn't have one of those creatures with me.

Yet, I had its legend.

Feeling a burst of inspiration, I shifted my stance, trying to mimic the serpent's unpredictable movements.

I darted left, then right, aiming to confuse Chius.

Every few steps, I'd lock eyes with him, attempting to draw him into my rhythm, to hypnotize him with my dance.

The sand felt warm and coarse underfoot as I shifted and pivoted, its texture grounding me in this surreal moment.

My gambit seemed to be working.

Chius, though agile, was momentarily thrown off by my erratic movements.

A slight smirk tugged at my lips.

I had to be careful.

Underestimating Chius could be my last mistake.

Chius growled, a deep rumble that vibrated through the ground and tickled the soles of my feet.

It was a sound of frustration, a testament to the beast's growing impatience.

I pressed on, weaving and bobbing, luring Chius into my tempo.

As minutes turned to what felt like hours, my muscles screamed in protest, and my throat felt parched.

The sweet tang of adrenaline coursed through my veins, but I knew I couldn't keep this up forever.

I needed to find an opening, a brief lapse in Chius's defenses.

Suddenly, Chius lunged, his powerful limbs propelling him forward at an astonishing speed.

His attack was hasty, a result of his mounting irritation.

Seizing the moment, I ducked, using my momentum to roll out of harm's way.

As I came up, I kicked up a cloud of sand, aiming it directly at Chius's eyes.

He roared in annoyance, his massive hands trying to clear his vision.

I didn't waste a second.

Darting behind him, I aimed a series of strikes at his exposed back, each hit precise, each blow calculated to inflict maximum damage.

After what seemed an eternity, Chius stumbled, his movements slowing as fatigue and injuries took their toll.

The arena's harsh lights reflected off his scales, now marred and dulled by the battle.

Breathing heavily, I took a step back, watching as Chius slowly got to his feet.

Respect for my opponent filled me.

He might have been a fierce rival, but he was also a formidable warrior.

The pit felt alive beneath my feet, a pulsating entity echoing the heartbeats of thousands who watched and cheered, a cacophony that reverberated in my very bones.

The air was thick with anticipation.

Each breath I took was a cocktail of these distinct odors, tinged with the tang of my own anxiety.

Chius circled me with the grace of a seasoned predator, his eyes betraying none of the effort he exerted.

His movements seemed fluid, an uncanny combination of brute strength and refined skill.

Every step he took was like a master musician playing a note, both precise and purposeful.

He was a masterpiece of combat, and I felt like an amateur trying to decipher his tune.

The sand crunched beneath our feet, its grains dancing up in minuscule plumes with every forceful step.

The texture felt gritty against my fingers as I momentarily lost my balance, attempting to deflect one of Chius's relentless blows.

He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, a flurry of strikes that seemed to come from every direction.

Our blades clashed, sending sparks flying like fiery rain.

The sound was a song of steel, high-pitched and constant, only broken by our grunts of effort and the roar of the crowd.

Suddenly, with a move that felt almost too fast to comprehend, Chius swept my feet out from under me.

The world became a blur as I crashed into the ground, the impact jarring my senses.

The rough texture of the sand grated against my skin, and for a moment, all I could feel was the cold, hard reality of the ground beneath me.

I tried to rise, but Chius was already upon me, his blade hovering menacingly above my neck.

The glint in his eyes suggested victory; he had me.

The smell of his breath, oddly sweet and sour at the same time, washed over me.

Every cheer from the crowd felt like a dagger, and every jeer, a weight upon my chest.

This was it, the end of the line.

As I lay there, resigned to my fate, the thought of Grace seeped into my consciousness.

The memory of her touch, the sound of her voice, the sight of her smile… I couldn't let it end like this.

In my peripheral vision, I caught a glimpse of something shiny, buried partially in the sand near my hand.

An old, discarded piece of tech, perhaps from a previous match.

I didn't have the luxury of time to determine its exact function or origin.

Maybe, just maybe, it could be my saving grace.

With a burst of adrenaline-fueled strength, I grabbed the object, pressing its singular button and praying to every deity I knew.

To my amazement, a blinding flash of light erupted, momentarily blinding both Chius and me.

The intense brightness was followed by a sound that resembled a sonic boom, causing my ears to ring.

The sensation was both invigorating and disorienting.

Capitalizing on the sudden turn of events, I pushed myself up, using every ounce of strength to regain my footing.

My senses were a whirlwind.

I had to focus, to capitalize on this fleeting advantage.

Chius, momentarily stunned, shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs.

His gaze locked onto mine, a mixture of surprise and grudging respect evident in his eyes.

For a few heartbeats, neither of us moved.

The crowd's cacophony had morphed into a hushed murmur, their collective anticipation palpable.

We were, once again, on even ground.

And then, as clarity dawned upon me, a plan began to form.

A potential way out, a tactic that might just tilt the odds in my favor.

I had an idea.

* * *

The roaring crowdand the electric atmosphere faded into background noise as I formulated my plan.

It was crazy, absolutely mad, but in the pits, sometimes madness was the only sane response.

With a deep breath, I did the unthinkable.

I turned my back on Chius, my every sense screaming that I was exposing myself to his impending strike.

The adrenaline coursing through my veins made every sensation heightened.

The feel of the rough fabric of my jacket against my fingers as I reached inside.

The cool, slightly slimy texture of the tw-headed snake-like creature, which I'd named Seris, after an ancient legend.

The distant calls of the birds outside the arena penetrated my ears.

Their musical chirping vied for attention versus the tense silence within the pit.

Holding Seris gently but firmly, I reached for the small vial of black ink.

Its contents, rich and viscous, were said to house auspicious spirits revered by the Ethurians, a species known for their spiritual beliefs.

The ink stunk.

I hurriedly smeared it over Seris, turning the creature's naturally luminous scales to a deep, gleaming black.

The transformation was astounding.

It was no longer just a snake-like creature but an embodiment of two cultures' revered symbols.

It didn't have three heads… but perhaps two would suffice.

I let Seris go, and the now-black creature slithered across the sand, its hissing echoing in the sudden silence of the arena.

Chius, his stance aggressive just moments ago, froze, his deep-set eyes darting between me and the creature.

For a long heartbeat, everything was still.

And in the middle of it all was Seris, the ink-black creature, now basking in the unexpected spotlight.

Chius's nostrils flared.

His large, muscled body tensed as if he was about to pounce.

Yet, a shadow of doubt crept into his eyes.

I could hear the faint, uneven rhythm of his breath, betraying his internal struggle.

The symbols in front of him clashed with his warrior instincts.

The audience held its collective breath, the palpable anticipation thick in the air.

Their murmurs created a backdrop of sound that was almost hypnotic, punctuated by the occasional sharp cry or shout.

And then, the defining moment.

Seris, perhaps sensing the tension or simply reacting to its surroundings, let out a sharp, sibilant hiss.

The sound pierced the atmosphere, clear and undeniable.

Chius's reaction was immediate.

The fearsome warrior, who had faced countless opponents without flinching, dropped his weapon.

His face, usually an unreadable mask, was filled with a mix of confusion, reverence, and fear.

Without a second thought, he pivoted and sprinted, making a beeline for the exit of the pit.

The silence that followed was deafening.

The awe and shock evident in every face around the arena.

From the highest stands to the guards at the entrance, all eyes were on me and the small, ink-covered creature making its way back to my side.

In the pits, where life and death danced their eternal tango, symbols and beliefs held power.

Today, a blend of legends, ink, and quick thinking had tilted the scales in my favor.

And as Chius's retreating form disappeared from view, I whispered a silent thank you to Seris and Grace, the unlikely heroes of the day.