The arena was within the heart of the castle—a sprawling colosseum designed for combat and spectacle alike.
It wasn't some half-baked sparring hall with wooden dummies and dust. No, this place was built to host battles that shook the ground and excited the blood.
Towering walls rose around us like titans carved from stone, enclosing the battlefield in a perfect circle. Rows upon rows of tiered seating stretched high above the ground, structured like a stadium, giving a clear view from every angle.
The entrances weren't barred gates or rusted chains like the ancient Roman colosseums I remembered from history class—they were polished, reinforced doors, elegantly inlaid with gold patterns. 'Well, at least one thing's different from Earth.'
We entered from the very top, stepping into what could only be described as the VIP lounge. Fewer seats, more space, and each chair looked like it cost more than an entire mansion—crimson cushions, gilded edges, and actual gemstones embedded into the framework like it was some royal jewelry collection.
The room was cozy but lavish. Adorned with elegant vases, flickering lamps, and an ornate chandelier that cast shimmering light over the polished floor. Steel railings lined the front, acting as a barrier between the nobles and the battlefield far below.
Lucian stepped forward, arms wide open like he was showing off a prized possession. "Behold—the arena," he announced dramatically. Then, turning to face us, he grinned. "Well then, go on. Start your duel."
And just like that, he and the groom's parents casually took their seats. Lucian parked himself right in the center of the three ornate thrones, while the others seated themselves to his left, as if they were here to watch a circus rather than a battle to death.
I stared at them, blinking. What the hell do you mean "go on"?
Did they not see the twenty-foot drop between me and the arena floor? What did they expect—me to swan dive down and pray I didn't shatter every bone in my body?
I glanced down over the railing. 'Yep. That was a long-ass way down.'
Brent noticed my hesitation, and predictably, couldn't resist opening his mouth.
"So your aggression was a bluff, huh?" he jeered, placing a hand mockingly on my shoulder. "Don't worry, Cassius, I'll take good care of you after the match. You won't need to do anything you don't like."
Then he turned dramatically toward the railing. "Let me show you how it's done."
And just like that, he vaulted over the edge.
For a glorious second, I thought I'd just witnessed a beautiful suicide.
But no—he landed perfectly in a three-point stance, classic superhero-style, dust puffing up around his feet. Then he stood, turned, and smirked up at me like the smug bastard he was.
'Of course he survived. Damn.'
I wasn't about to snap my legs trying to copy his acrobatics though. Instead, I casually dropped down to the next section of seats. With a bit of careful maneuvering, I made my way down the stairs that zig-zagged between rows.
His smirk wavered. Watching me descend with measured grace and zero drama clearly annoyed him.
'Jealous, huh? Sorry my legs prefer function over flair.'
Once I reached the bottom tier, I still had a short drop ahead of me. I hesitated for a moment, then leapt over the final railing. My boots hit the ground with a dull thud. The impact barely registered.
'Huh. No pain.'
'Must've been the stats. My body was clearly no longer your average Earthling meat sack.'
Good to know I was immune to fall damage at least from some meters.
While I was busy marveling at my newfound durability, I spotted Brent already on the other side of the arena. He was almost a blur from this distance, which made me squint.
'Just how massive is this place? How the hell does this even fit inside the castle?'
To my right, I noticed a weapons rack standing like a miniature fortress of death. It held everything you could imagine—swords, halberds, axes, bows, daggers, even what looked like a... crowbar? 'What kind of construction site battle royale happened here?'
I jogged toward the rack, using the time to test my movement, get used to my new body. My body moved smoother, lighter, faster. Like the engine under the hood had been swapped out for something way more advanced.
In mere seconds, I reached the weapon stand. My eyes scanned the collection, pausing over each blade and handle. I wasn't looking for elegance—I was looking for pain.
My fingers curled around a single-handed axe. 'Compact, brutal. No frills. Just raw, unfiltered pain. Yeah. This one'll hurt.'
Before I could take a practice swing, Lucian's voice boomed across the arena like thunder.
"Participants! Ready yourselves for combat!"
Immediately, the system chimed in with its mechanical voice.
> Duel Commencing in: 3… 2… 1 <
> FIGHT <
The countdown hit one, and instinct screamed at me.
With a sharp whoosh, a spear flew straight at my chest—fast, precise, and meant to kill.
I twisted to the left, the projectile slicing past me like a bullet. It embedded itself in the ground behind me with a dull thunk.
Brent was already charging, kicking up clouds of dust with every sprinting step. His face was twisted in a manic grin, spear in hand, eyes wide with excitement.
He lunged again, the spear tip whistling through the air. I shifted just enough for it to miss, the weapon stabbing deep into the earth beside me.
Using the embedded pole as leverage, he spun, raising his leg to deliver a brutal kick.
I caught it with my left arm. The impact vibrated through my bones—but nothing more.
He barely had time to register my counter before I launched my own kick at his torso.
Whoosh.
Missed.
The strike grazed harmlessly past him. I cursed under my breath.
'Damn. I'm shorter now. My reach is off.'
Brent landed cleanly from the spin, pulling his spear free in one swift motion. He pointed it toward me with renewed focus. "Not bad, Cassius. You've got some skill after all."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You still fight like a toddler with a stick."
He chuckled—but his eyes were hard. Cold.
"Then I won't hold back."
He gripped his spear tighter, and the weapon began to glow faintly. Light gathered at the tip like sparks forming a star.
"[Strike Thrust]!"
He stabbed the weapon forward.
The air rippled violently, pressure building like a cannon about to go off.
I didn't wait to test my luck. I kicked off the ground, launching myself a few meters into the air.
The spear slammed into the earth with explosive force, the ground shattering, forming a small crater.
Brent looked up at me mid-air, a feral grin on his lips. "Don't be scared. I won't end it quickly."
'Bastard!'
Hovering just long enough to smirk, I dropped back down, axe-first.
He blocked, the clang of metal echoing through the arena. The force blasted us both backward like ragdolls caught in a shockwave.
We hit the dirt, rolled, and sprang back to our feet almost at the same time.
Two fighters. Two weapons. Two smiles that said the same thing.
This was going to be fun.