Seventeen hit the ground with a smack.
Bare feet on packed sand. The shock ran up his legs, sharp and quick, but he stayed standing.
It was warmer than he remembered. The air heavy, thick with heat and the smell of blood baked into the dirt. Sweat gathered fast, on his neck, his back, the hollow between his shoulders.
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then,
THE CROWD EXPLODED.
Voices crashed down like thunder. Screams, chants, laughter.
Some shouted his number, others just noise, raw, hungry noise that made the pit shake.
"SEVENTEEN!"
"DO IT AGAIN!"
"MAKE IT BLEED!"
He didn't look up. He didn't have to.
He could feel the heat of their eyes, hundreds of them, pressing against his skin, crawling over the ribs that showed through his chest.
Then the voice cut through the noise, a deep echo that filled every corner of the pit.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, DID YOU SEE THAT!!"
The crowd ERUPTED.
A storm of voices, fists in the air, hands slamming the metal rails until they rattled.
Sand fell from the walls like rain.
"THE UNDYING SEVENTEEN!!" the announcer roared, his tone swelling with every word. "HE DEFIED DEATH AGAINST THE TERRIBLE BLEAKSPAWN! HIS LEG, CHEWED AND SWALLOWED! HIS BODY, BROKEN AND BLOODY! AND YET HE CRAWLED, HE FOUGHT, HE PREVAILED!"
The crowd howled back, a wall of sound shaking the pit.
"TONIGHT, HE RETURNS, NOT FOR SURVIVAL, BUT FOR GLORY! FOR ENTERTAINMENT! FOR ALL OF YOU WHO HAVE COME TO BEHOLD THE UNDYING!"
The voice softened for a moment, lower, almost humble.
"Please place your bets now, and thank you for your generosity and continued support of this grand spectacle in the lower pit. Once the gates are up, all is final."
Then it swelled again,
"FOR GLORY! FOR ENTERTAINMENT!"
"THE TERRIFYING OGRITH!!"
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, ARE YOU READY?!"
The stands ERUPTED AGAIN.
Feet STOMPED. Metal RATTLED.
The air shook with every scream, every chant of his number.
"LET THE BATTLE BEGIN!!!"
The words hit like thunder.
And as they echoed through the pit, the gate opposite Seventeen's shuddered, then slammed upward with a violent bang.
It came out of the gate dragging its arm behind it.
The sound was heavy. Wet.
Like flesh scraping against stone.
Its body was all wrong, narrow in some places, stretched thin in others. The skin looked pale and dry around the ribs, but darker near the joints, almost burned. The spine bent under the weight of its own limb, curved and trembling, each step a struggle to hold itself up.
Its head hung low, half-hidden beneath a shell of smooth bone that caught the light like polished metal. Inside that hollow shape were two pale eyes, small, distant, set deep in the dark. They didn't blink. They just stared at him.
When it lifted its head, the hollow underneath split open, a mouth, hidden until then. It gaped sideways and down, showing tendril like teeth that didn't line up right, too many for the space they had. The breath that came from it carried a rot that didn't smell alive.
One arm, if you could still call it that, was huge. Thick and swollen, skin stretched tight around it, knotted veins running down to a hand large enough to crush a man's chest flat. The other was small and thin, curled close like a useless memory.
The big hand dragged as it walked. Each pull left streaks of dark moisture across the stone. Sometimes it tried to lift it, to balance, but the arm always fell back down, pulling its whole body forward with a lurch.
When it moved, it didn't snarl or roar.
It just breathed, heavy, uneven, like something dying but refusing to stop.
Seventeen could hear the wet slap of its hand against the ground, slow and deliberate, counting down the space between them. It finally raised its head, its white eyes glinting, reflecting the lights above, making it seem sorrowful. It took a step forward, leaving its massive arm behind it. Its legs spread slightly as its stance became firmer. Its white spine unfolded, its curved shape becoming straighter. It shook a bit as if it struggled and it pained it to do so.
Clink.
A faint clink sounded reached Seventeen's ear as the Ogrith seemed to stop shaking as it froze for a second. Then it all snapped back into place all at once as its massive left arm was sent flying as it's body was taken with it towards Seventeen with terrifying speed.
Seventeen's eyes widened as its speed was too fast for him to move anywhere. He barely brought his arms Infront of him as the massive hand slapped him back into the wall.
BOOM!!!
The sound reverberated through the pit.
Seventeen's back hit the wall hard. The sand stone cracking, air bursting from his lungs as his arms and legs splayed out onto the wall.
His head snapped forward, mouth flying open as spit and blood burst out, thick and wet, splattering into the sand in front of him.
He slid down the wall, leaving a faint smear behind, breath stuttering out in broken gasps. His eyes flashed with white dots swimming in his vision like shooting stars. He looked up to see where the Ogrith was. It was laying down in the sand, trembling as if it had felt the impact too. The small tendrils in its mouth wiggled wildly, spasming like they were in pain.
Seventeen leaned forward and caught himself with his hands. His forearms screamed in agony, somehow not broken. He pulled one leg under him and pushed off it as he started to stand, his entire body disoriented, unknowingly tilted to one side. He wanted to rest longer, but the Ogrith was already moving, slowly forcing itself upright. Its massive arm pushed its body off the ground single-handedly. The rest of it trembled as it recentered its balance.
Seeing this, Seventeen began circling the pit, slow steps, trying to get behind it as it steadied itself.
Grwik.
A sound came from its tendrils as they twitched and then froze. The Ogrith stopped shaking. It turned its head toward the crater where it had smashed Seventeen into the wall. Seeing the mark but not the body, it spun its head around, scanning, searching.
BANG!!
Seventeen's fist slammed into the Ogrith's polished metal head. The sound rang sharp, like striking iron. The Ogrith let out a guttural noise, its head knocking slightly to the side. But that was all it did.
Seventeen froze, fist still pressed against its face, staring into its pale, unblinking eyes.
'Shit', he thought.
The Ogrith's huge arm moved in a blur. It grabbed his wrist, the same one that struck, and began to squeeze.
Seventeen screamed as the pressure grew. His wrist felt like it was being eaten from the inside out. Muscles shifted under the skin like cords about to snap. Heat surged through him, nerves firing and dying all at once. The feeling of his hand started to vanish, disappearing from him one nerve at a time.
He raised his other arm and punched again and again, hammering at its head, desperate to make it let go. The Ogrith's spine began to rise, its body straightening as its stance widened.
Panic clawed up Seventeen's throat. He started kicking, the creature's legs, its torso, anywhere he could reach, anything to stop what was coming. But the Ogrith only tightened its grip, pulling him back like a ragdoll as it drew its arm behind, ready to throw.
Seventeen reacted fast. He locked his legs around the Ogrith's leg, clinging tight.
Click.
The sound came from its arm, and then pain exploded through him. His wrist felt like it was tearing away from his arm. The pressure surged, his body being dragged forward by sheer force. He felt his shoulder begin to give, tendons straining, his own body trying to tear itself apart to stay whole.
Then came the motion, the full, violent swing. His legs still wrapped tight around the Ogrith's limb caused them both to spin. Their bodies twisted through the air, tangled, before slamming into the wall.
BOOM!!
Another crater split open in the pit. Dust blasted outward in a wave. But this time, Seventeen wasn't alone in it.
They hit the wall shoulder first, twisted together, a storm of limbs and blood.
Both of them hit, side by side, stone cracking beneath the weight.
Red and blue blood burst out across the sand.
They slid down together, collapsing in a heap. The Ogrith trembled, its body twitching, blue blood oozing slowly from its tendril-filled mouth. He could see it coughing violently, convulsing as if it was choking on its own fluids.
He tried pushing himself off the ground to stand, but when he moved his left arm it folded under its own weight. He stared down at it. His wrist was crushed, purple welts marking where the Ogrith's fingers had clamped onto it. The joint hung loose, lifeless, swinging from him like a broken chain.
Then, as if his brain had finally caught up to what happened, the pain hit him all at once.
He screamed.
His eyes darkened at the edges. It felt like he was slowly slipping away, fading somewhere deep inside himself. The pain from his crushed wrist burned up his arm. His back grew warmer as he felt blood running down it, skin torn to shreds after being slammed into the wall for the second time. His entire left arm was so numb it might as well have not existed. His legs shook uncontrollably, the muscles trembling from holding onto the Ogrith during the throw. The pain only grew worse, heavier, spreading through every breath. His vision blurred.
He fell onto his side, facing the ceiling above the pit. The crowd screamed, their voices echoing through the arena. He couldn't hear it anymore. None of it. The sound had turned to nothing. He saw their mouths moving, yelling for him to get up, maybe even laughing.
Then something flew toward him.
Splash.
It splattered across his face and chest, soaking into the cuts and open skin. Another object followed.
Splash.
Cold liquid hit him again. His mouth opened without meaning to, and some of it ran down his tongue.
It was freezing, a sharp, biting cold that shot through the heat of his mouth and slid down his throat like melted ice. The taste was sweet and strange, sparkling against the dryness of his tongue. It fizzed faintly as it mixed with blood, burning cold and clean. It was the kind of cold that made his teeth ache. He had never tasted anything like it, no salt, no metal, just something pure and crisp, like water blessed by heaven itself. For a second, it almost made him forget where he was.
But then he realized what it was. Their drinks.
They were throwing their drinks at him, laughing, jeering, mocking him as he fought to stay alive while they sat above him, eating, drinking, and cheering. He was exactly what the announcer called him. Their entertainment.
He hated them. Loathed them.
He wanted to walk up there himself and drag them down into this pit. Make them see what kind of life they'd paid to watch. His chest tightened as his heart pounded faster. It grew hotter, heavier, stronger. The pain didn't fade, but something in him changed. His body burned. His skin flushed red as he rolled to his side, the cold liquid sliding off him and soaking into the sand.
He turned toward the Ogrith.
It had backed away from the crater, keeping distance. Its breathing was loud and ragged. Its body twitched with each breath as it steadied itself. Then its head lifted. It locked eyes with Seventeen.
The Ogrith widened its stance, lowering its body, preparing to strike again. It knew Seventeen couldn't grab it this time.
Seventeen's heart pounded harder.
He ran.
Every muscle screamed for him to stop, but he didn't listen. The dizziness was gone. The weakness gone. Only pain remained. And rage.
His hearing came back in bursts, first muffled, then loud, the crowd's hollering returning like a storm. The sound fed him. His fury grew with it.
The Ogrith straightened, bones creaking under its weight, and pulled its arm back to swing.
Seventeen charged, kicking off the sand with everything he had left.
Click.
The sound echoed in his ears as if it was the only sound in the world. Seventeen immediately twisted his body to the left and swung with his right fist.
BOOM!!!
The sound of impact exploded through the pit as the sand burst outward. Seventeen's arm flung backward, snapping at the shoulder. The old wounds on his hand tore open again in an instant. Blood burst from his knuckles like a red flare, spraying across the ground as pain ripped through his arm. The Ogrith's massive hand tore through Seventeen's punch, but most of its momentum was stopped. It crashed into the sand just short of the wall.
DOOM!
The ground shook with the impact. Sand exploded outward, pelting Seventeen's face and chest. He cried out in pain. His right arm hung by his side, limp and useless, swinging like dead weight. It dangled from his shoulder as if filled with sand, heavy and numb, bouncing with every ragged breath he took.
Tears blurred his vision, hot and stinging, but he didn't stop. He ran toward the Ogrith's body.
The Ogrith spasmed, its huge frame twitching and writhing as it tried to get up. Blue blood gushed from its mouth in sputtering bursts. Seeing Seventeen charge, it turned, curling its body inward, folding itself into its massive hand until it became a ball of bone and muscle.
Seventeen stared at it, encased in polished white armor that glimmered under the pit lights. He didn't think. He just moved.
He started kicking with everything he had.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
Each kick cracked through the pit, echoing off the walls like thunder. The sound mixed with the roar of the crowd, a storm of voices growing louder and wilder with every blow.
Seventeen's legs shook violently, muscles quivering with exhaustion and pain, but he didn't stop. He kicked until the skin on his feet split open, until every impact sent shockwaves up through his bones. His toenails peeled away with each hit, but he didn't feel it. The only thing that existed was the next kick.
Blood splattered across his legs, both his and the Ogrith's. His body was drenched in it, red and blue dripping together in thick streaks down his chest. Both arms hung uselessly by his sides, swinging wildly with every movement, leaving trails of blood that glistened under the lights.
The crowd went insane. They screamed so loud the air itself vibrated. Men pounded their fists on the railings, women shrieked with laughter, and children jumped in rhythm with his kicks. The arena was alive, trembling with their noise. They didn't see a man. They saw a spectacle. Seventeen, covered in blood and broken, kicking like a machine built to destroy. They chanted, cursed, begged for more.
The smooth bone of the Ogrith refused to break. Every kick thudded, dull and heavy, sending shocks up Seventeen's body until it hurt to breathe. The sand beneath him darkened with blood and spit.
Then, suddenly, the Ogrith rolled.
Its massive hand whipped out and smacked Seventeen backward. The blow knocked him off balance, throwing him a few steps away. It wasn't strong enough to send him flying, but it hit hard enough to make his chest seize with pain.
The Ogrith's polished white head was now soaked in its own blue blood, a dent pressed deep into the surface where Seventeen's heel had struck. The blood ran down its tendrils, painting them dark and wet.
It staggered forward, trembling, dragging its weight on its massive arm. It reached for Seventeen, slow and clumsy.
He jumped back the moment it lunged, barely avoiding its grasp. The Ogrith's arm slammed into the sand, dragging it forward under its own weight until the rest of its body collapsed face-first.
Before it could move again, Seventeen rushed to its side.
He started kicking its legs.
BANG!
BANG!
Each impact echoed like drums, the sound of his rage made real.
BANG!
BANG!
The Ogrith's legs buckled under its own weight as it fell. The ground shook as it twisted mid-drop, swinging its massive arm across the pit.
Seventeen saw it too late.
He tried to jump back, but his right arm was too slow. It swung forward when he moved, and the Ogrith's hand caught it mid-motion.
The grip clamped down like a vise.
Seventeen felt the pressure rise instantly. His forearm bulged, veins straining under his skin as the Ogrith squeezed with everything it had. His flesh turned purple, blood trapped beneath the crushing weight of its fingers. Bones creaked like dry wood under strain.
He gritted his teeth and yelled, but he didn't stop. That arm was already gone to him, dead and numb, so he used the rest of himself instead. He planted his feet in the sand and started kicking.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
Each kick slammed into the Ogrith's exposed stomach, dull thuds followed by sharp cracks echoing through the pit. The Ogrith screeched, its guttural cry mixing pain with fury.
Its grip didn't loosen. If anything, it tightened. The Ogrith's spine began to straighten again, muscles locking back into place as it fought to rise. Seventeen kicked faster, harder, desperate to keep it down. Every strike sent blue blood splattering against his legs.
The Ogrith screamed again. Its tendrils shot out from its mouth, twitching wildly, slick with blood. The creature pushed through its agony, forcing its body upright, determined to finish the throw.
Seventeen saw the tendrils reach for him. He didn't think. He lunged forward, teeth bared, and bit down hard.
He gathered the twisting, blood-slick tendrils into his mouth and bit until his jaw locked. The taste was vile, thick and metallic, like cold meat left in rot. He didn't care. He tore into it, desperate to stop the monster from moving.
Click.
His entire body was thrown again.
FWOOM!
Seventeen spun in the air and crashed into the wall with his side.
BOOM!!!
Another crater tore open in the wall as he fell out of it. This time with a mouthful of black and blue tendrils jammed between his teeth. He hit the sand and started coughing up blood, hacking until it turned into dry heaves. He threw up, choking on the mix of bile, blood, and half-chewed flesh. He lay on his side and tried to move again, but his body refused to listen.
His once-raging heart was cooling down, slowing with each beat. The pain he'd held back so long came rushing in with double the force, tearing through him all at once. He let out a voiceless scream, veins bulging along his throat as his head flushed deep red. All the air shot out of his lungs in one burst, leaving them empty and burning, his throat closing in on itself as if the world was trying to choke him.
His ears grew hot. He felt the wet trickle as blood started leaking from them. His hearing was gone, swallowed up by a piercing, endless ringing that echoed through his skull. He couldn't hear his crying. He couldn't hear his screams. He couldn't hear the crowd. He couldn't even hear his own heartbeat.
Then his vision started to fade.
The yellow sand darkened, swallowed by shadow. The pit walls melted into black. The Ogrith vanished. The crowd vanished. Every bit of light disappeared.
He was blind.
And that scared him more than the pain.
He could still feel everything. The blood flowing from his wounds, sliding hot over his skin. The sting of torn flesh. The throbbing of every nerve still alive enough to hurt.
He tried to yell, but his chest and throat just locked tight. He could feel the spit and blood shoot out, dribbling from his lips and splattering into the sand.
The dark pressed closer. He couldn't breathe.
His skin crawled. His heartbeat was all he had left.
The air felt thick, heavy, alive. Watching him.
It felt like the world was closing its hand around him.
His body was still here, but he wasn't sure he was.
Then a sliver of coolness brushed across his skin, faint, gone in an instant, and he ignored it. The next thing he felt was a low rumble under the sand, growing closer. He froze. Panic hit him as the vibration climbed up through his chest. The Ogrith was moving.
He tried to push himself off the ground but kept collapsing, falling face-first into the sand again and again. He kept trying, forcing his body to move even as it refused to obey. His muscles trembled, every fiber screaming.
Then he felt a touch on his shoulder, heavy and rough.
He immediately lowered his head and bit down with everything he had, sinking his teeth in and trying to rip a chunk out of the monster with his bare teeth.
Tink
A glasslike sound split the air as he bit down. It was sharp and metallic, echoing inside his skull like shattering ice. He felt his teeth vibrate so violently it was like they were about to explode from the sheer force of his bite. The pain in his jaw was blinding, but he didn't stop. He bit harder, shaking his head like a wild animal, desperate to tear something, anything, from his attacker. His neck muscles locked, veins standing out against the dirt and blood, every motion violent and uncoordinated as if instinct alone was driving him.
Then he felt a palm press against his head. The touch was steady, deliberate. The skin beneath it was wrapped in worn leather that brushed through his hair, leaving streaks of sand and blood behind. A faint, cool pulse spread from that touch, slipping into his skull like cold water poured over fire.
The pain began to fade, not vanish, but crawl backward, swallowed by something gentler. The ringing in his ears dulled to a hum, a trembling note that slowly gave way to another sound.
Cheers.
Cries.
Voices.
They echoed above him, scattered and distant at first, then swelling, growing into one enormous wave. The noise surrounded him, loud enough to shake the pit, loud enough to remind him that the world hadn't stopped moving even if he had.
His eyes began to work again. At first, everything was colorless, shapes moving in smudged black and white. Shadows and light bled into each other until outlines started forming, the sand, the wall, the gate, the pit. Then color began to bleed back in, faint and fragile, as if the world itself was hesitating to return.
He blinked slowly and looked up.
A looming bucket hung above him, blocking part of the light.
"Can you hear me?" Myers' voice came from behind it, calm and neutral, echoing slightly against the pit walls.
Seventeen tried to respond, but only a hoarse wheeze scraped out of his throat, his voice shredded from all the screaming.
"Don't worry about talking," Myers said, his tone flat but not unkind. "It'll only make it worse."
Seventeen turned his head toward the center of the pit. The Ogrith lay there motionless, its body twitching faintly. A massive hole gaped at the bottom of its head, blue blood gushing out in thick streams. It poured like a fountain, painting the sand in dark, glistening stains that spread in every direction.
"Yeah, don't worry about it," Myers said as if commenting on the weather. "You won. Now come on. We have to leave, or the damage will be permanent."
He snapped his fingers and raised his hand.
Seventeen's body began to lift from the ground, weightless and limp. His limbs hung loosely, swaying as he rose. He could feel the pull beneath him, steady and effortless, as if invisible strings were guiding him upward.
Myers turned and walked toward the opposite gate, the one Seventeen had entered from. The noise from above kept growing, cheers echoing through the stone like thunder. They stepped into the dark of the stairwell, and the sound changed, muffled, distant, replaced by the echo of their footsteps.
Step after step they climbed. The air grew warmer. A faint light appeared above them, spilling down the staircase like sunlight leaking through water. It grew brighter with every step until it filled the tunnel completely.
By the time they reached the top, the roar of the crowd hit like a physical force.
Everyone was screaming, their voices blending into a single sound, excitement, ecstasy, disbelief. They shouted his name again and again as he floated up into the light.
SEVENTEEN!!
SEVENTEEN!!
SEVENTEEN!!
They chanted his name like a prayer and a curse at once. Faces leaned over the railing in carnival hunger. Some wore massive grins, mouth corners pulled back so hard it seemed as if their cheeks would split with enthusiasm. Others had eyes blown wide with wet, feverish reverence. There were men with veins bulging on their temples, knuckles white from gripping bars. There were women laughing with their heads thrown back, lipstick smudged, eyes glittering like shards. Children that were allowed in held stuffed things and imitated the adults with tiny fists pumped in the air. The floodlights painted everything gold and cruel. Up close, the faces were wrong, glorified, like carved masks of worship. Teeth gleamed, tongues slipped between teeth as if tasting a feast. Sweat and beer and bile mixed on the railings.
The noise didn't just hit his ears. It crawled through his skin, buzzing under his ribs. The air tasted like iron and heat and breath that wasn't his.
They saw him float up, a bloody god on a string, and they loved it. They screamed and sobbed and laughed. Some reached, palms extended as if to touch the legend rising out of the mud. Others spat curses. A few began to clap slowly at first, then faster, a savage rhythm that matched his uneven heartbeat. They worshiped the violence, celebrated his ruin, and echoed the promise of more.
They screamed for him, but none of it felt real. He was something else now, something they made.
He hated it. He burned with a gladness that was not theirs. If his limbs had worked he would have hauled them down himself, shown them the truth of this life. But all he could do was spit. So that's what he did. He spat up at the railing as he drifted past. The spittle landed on a man's shirt and spread like a dark stain.
For a heartbeat, silence ruled. Even the lights felt still. Then the world shattered.
RAGE roared from some. LAUGHTER bubbled from others. REVERENCE rolled through the rows like the wake of a boat. Some shouted for blood. Some blessed him like a saint. The noise became a living thing, a thousand voices pulled in jagged directions, all of them worship and hunger and mockery at once.
Myers didn't say a word. He only watched, eyes calm, as if the noise below him had nothing to do with them.
He watched them as they chanted his name and floated out of the pit. He wanted to be fixed. He wanted to be whole. He wanted to be on their level and tear them down. He wanted to be anything but this. He did not have the strength for that fantasy now. For now he had the taste of cold drink in his mouth and the heat of blood on his skin.
Myers guided him away through the gate. The crowd kept screaming. The noise followed him up into the light until the stairwell shut and the chants faded into a steady drum.
The chants faded, but the sound stayed inside him, steady as a heartbeat that wasn't his own.