Chapter 200 – Sport

“Not often we get a new one these days. Hope that it lasts long enough for us to get a few rounds in and doesn’t die too quick.” – Spectator in the “Arena”

Kristi watched Kurt vanish instantly, his outline replaced by grey mist that rapidly dissipated in the sun. All that remained was the young man and the faint whisp of vapor. “Kurt!” she shouted, taking a step forward.

“Fear not, damsels.” The young man said, clearly misinterpreting their expressions. “The lycan had been contained. He wiIIIIILLL-Ackh.”

“What happened to Kurt?” Kristi demanded as she grabbed the teen by the collar, bunching the fabric and twisting it as she lifted and choked him at the same time.

“CO-ACCChhhhh-Cont-” He tried to choke out but couldn’t.

“KRISTI!” Val shouted in her mind. “Put him down and play nice, I have an idea. You too, Rindi. Just fucking chill.”

Against her better judgement, Kristi did just that and set the man down. “Sorry.” She said through gritted teeth. “I was startled.”

Doubled over, with hands on his knees, the man waved her off. “It is… it is understandable… all is forgiven.”

“Oh my! What happened?” Val cried, adopting a tone of worry as convincing as the acting in a high school play. “A lycan you say?”

“The truth.” The young man stood, seeming to have caught his breath while remembering to adopt a heroic tone and stance. “A stain upon out fair world, these shapeshifters are. It is a good thing we detected him at the teleportation plaza, else he may have done any number of horrible deeds.”

“Well, it’s a relief there are such heroic people as you.” Val said, shifting her tone as she got the measure of the man. “What is your name? I would like to know who saved us.”

Kristi wanted to growl at that but held her tongue and smiled anyway. She would certainly be thanking this idiot in a very violent way, very soon.

“Acolyte Castu, of the Stranded Hunters guild. At your service, lady?” The man offered his hand, palm up while leaning in like he would kiss her ring.

“Thea. Thank you, acolyte Castu.” Val said, using the nickname her parents used for her. Castu took her hand in a gentle shake but didn’t try to kiss it, thankfully.

Kristi got a mental nudge from Val and then moved back in and used the most gentle tone she could. “You said he was contained. Is it really enough to hold such a creature?”

“It is!” Castu puffed up and smiled. “Our church and guild even gets some use from them before they are disposed of.”

“Oh? How so?” Kristi asked, trying not to let her churning stomach get the better of her. She wasn’t sure how Rindi was doing with the development but could feel that Val was in a similar situation with her emotions.

Castu gestured to the south, though they couldn’t see much due to someone putting a city in the way. “The Arena! We let our promising young hunters test themselves against the menaces. But don’t worry, our cultivators are safeguarded during the matches.”

“An arena you say?” Val gasped. “Like they use for racing and sports back home?”

Somehow Castu’s grin grew even wider. “Oh, no. This is only for fighting, like a prize match. They are even having some tonight! A big event that we all attend.”

“Who is we?” Kristi asked sweetly. “More people as brave and clever as you?” If it had been any other kid, Kristi would have felt bad about manipulating them and using their naiveite against them. This time, not so much.

“Some, yes.” Castu said. “But we also have members of the church, aspiring cultivators who want to become hunters and even some seasoned hunters. We all unite to see some good fights against these foul beasts.”

“It sounds quite amazing.” Val swooned, adopting a dreamy look. “Who are these hunters?”

Giving her a confused look, Castu explained. “They are skilled warriors and trackers who work to kill or capture lycans and other shapeshifters. Don’t you know about them?”

Val shook her head. “Oh, we don’t have those where we are from. Probably how we ended up in the clutches of that lycan without knowing. I would love to see how they handle such monsters, though.”

Seeming to have an idea, Castu straightened up. “Would you like to see the fights? I can get you in as a guest. It is a bit far, but we should be there in time to see them if we hurry. They say it will be an all-night event!”

“Really?”

“Of course, I think it is only right since you were almost victims of this heinous creature.” Castu beamed.

“That would be amazing. Come on girls, let’s go watch them get their just reward!” Val cheered and linked her arm with the now strutting Castu.

“I swear to all the gods I am going to kill him.” Kristi grumbled over the implant to Val and Rindi.

“Can you tell me more about this Arena?” Val asked.

“Well, it’s actually underground. There is only one entrance and exit, for security reasons. The Arena is the midpoint between the entrance and the containment cells where we keep the monsters.” Castu said before launching into a detailed description of the facility.

“Given that it’s underground, when Kurt gets loose, they are all going to die.” Rindi observed, her mental voice somehow having a threatening growl.

Kristi ground her teeth herself and willed Castu to hurry up. “We can only hope.”

*****

“Fuu-oooof.” Kurt’s startled curse was cut off mid-word as he was interrupted by the ground meeting his backside.  “Ahhhhsssshhit!” He immediately rolled to his feet and tried to get a good look at where he was, fighting through the disorientation and nausea from the sudden… whatever had happened to him.

The first thing Kurt noticed was that he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. The sunny street had been replaced by a poorly lit jail cell amongst many other similar cells. The only illumination came from the row of lights running down a central aisle. He could barely make out the figures in other cells due to the deep shadows.

The second thing he noticed was the smell and sound. The air was thick with the smell of blood, werewolves and filth. Not from him, but other werewolves, likely the other cell occupants. The sounds he heard were the occasional groan of pain and something like distant thunder.

“Caution, first step is a… is a rough one.” A voice rasped from Kurt’s right, making him whirl to see a figure hunched over in the corner of the next cell.

Moving over to the person, Kurt got a good look at the cell. He wasn’t in a traditional prison cell, where the units shared a wall or bars, instead he was on an elevated platform that had a cell built upon it. The bars of the cell were nearly 2-inches thick and didn’t have an obvious door, but the frame looked strange in a way he couldn’t understand at that moment. He had no idea why it was like that but would try to figure it out later.

“What is this place? Where are we?” Kurt crouched next to the person, keeping his voice low to not draw attention.

The stranger’s head lolled to the side, and he looked at Kurt out of one eye. “The Arena…” he took in a shuddering breath. “Well, the holding cells for the Arena.” The stranger was covered in bruises and cuts that were barely healing. Each wound raw and inflamed, giving his tanned skin a pallid look even in the dim light.

Kurt did not like the sound of that. “What is this arena?”

“Where… where they train to…” The man made a gurgling noise as he tried to swallow, his voice sounding strained. “Train to kill us… lycans. Make you fight… over and over…”

The idea was familiar to Kurt. He had seen it in various forms of media along with his knowledge of Ancient Rome’s Colosseum. The Romans had once used beasts and convicts for entertainment in rather barbaric fashion. “How do we get out?”

The man laughed around a cough. “No getting out. Barely enough food to heal. Only feed you to fight. They keep… keep you weak.”

Pausing for a moment, Kurt thought about what he should do but didn’t make it far. Before he could ask another question, a grating noise could be heard and a door at the far end of the hall opened. Making a snap decision, Kurt summoned one of the survival rations, a brick of pemican, from his ring and a bottle of water.

“Here, eat.” Kurt said and shoved what was essentially a brick of calories through the bars and dropping it in front of the man along with the water. “Keep it hidden.”

“Wh- never mind.” The other man said but cut himself off and began stuffing his face.

Kurt returned to watching the open door at the far end of the hall. He could see a sliver of light that made it look like a double door situation but was distracted by two people pushing and pulling a cell into the hall. The cell had what looked like the crumpled form of a werewolf who was slowly shifting to human.

Finally realizing cells were actually cages, Kurt watched as it was rolled down the hall. It was then turned and shoved into place somewhere between him and the door. The two men then proceeded down the hall toward him.

“Cell twenty is next. We got a new one to throw in the Arena.” One of the men said.

“Oh, fresh ones are fun, always full of fight.” The other said. Kurt noted his translator had just about perfected the local language.

Kurt turned to the cell next to him to warn the other werewolf but found him still shoving the ration bar in his mouth. “Hey, guards are coming. Hide th-“ he had reached out his hand to get the man’s attention but once he made contact, he had to stop.

Mouth snapping shut so hard he cracked a tooth, Kurt’s body locked up like he touched a live wire. He couldn’t have screamed if he wanted as a surge of energy rush into his body from… he wasn’t sure where.

Pure divine energy of his own aspect rushed into his body, like it was pulled from the air. It felt like he had been bitten by the Origin again but without the forcible shift to his werewolf form. Still, he felt his two bite marks grow warm and twinge in a sort of phantom pain.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was only a few seconds, the sensation subsided and Kurt fell back on is butt. He was gasping for air and felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest. The near cardiac arrest along with the feeling of adrenalin withdrawal clouded his mind for a few moments until he noticed the other werewolf staring at him.

“Who…?” He asked, face still greasy from the pemican. He looked to have regained much of his color and the visible wounds on his body were already healed. Before he could finish asking his question, the two people moving down the hall reached them.

“Damn, looks like this one had a bad reaction to the teleport.” The first guard said and grabbed the handles welded to the heavy metal bars of his cage. Kurt could see they had some sort of metal studded batons tucked into their belts, likely to encourage the captives to keep their hands inside the cage.

The other man also grabbed a handle and heaved, sliding the cage out. “He better… uhg… better get it figured out…there we go.” He grunted as they got the cage moving, turned it around and began pushing it toward the other end of the hall.

The logical part of Kurt wanted to kill these two people, but the irrational part was still reeling with the effect of touching that other lycan. There was little he could do in the rocking cell besides holding on and trying to get his bearings as his head cleared. He was also trying to get a look at the area now that he was moving through but could hear something like an announcer and a crowd of people which distracted him.

The glimpses he caught showed cages lining the hall on both sides, most had a werewolf, or what he assumed was a werewolf. At the end was a gap with a couple doors branching off, one on either side. In that open area he saw a couple chairs and a table, likely where these guards sat when not moving cages. Before he could get a better look, one of the guards drew his attention.

“OI! Attention!” the first one shouted, pulling his baton out to bang on the bars of Kurt’s cage. “Here’s the regulations. You go out and you fight. If you cooperate and put on a good show, they might let you live. When you shift, remember to not go crazy otherwise they will put you down.”

“And remember your place, fucker.” The second guard added. “You are lucky we are even keeping you as training stock for the hunters.”

The first one grunted in agreement. “And you don’t get to quit until they say so. Even if you force one of the hunters or aspirants to use their grace, you stay out until we say you are done.”

With a clatter, the cage rolled through the first door and bumped against a lip just below the still closed second door. This made the floor of his cage, and what appeared to be the floor of the arena, a level surface. The guards stepped out, shutting the doors behind them.

A moment after the interior doors shut, the ones to the arena opened. The bars on the front of Kurt’s cage then slid to the slide and the floor rapidly began tipping upward. The sudden incline and lack of traction sent him sprawling out into the hard packed sand as the arena doors slammed shut behind him. Despite his mind still reeling, he immediately bounced to his feet and looked around. He saw a person standing at the far end of the space, clearly his opponent but risked a glance around.

It was exactly what Kurt expected, an arena. 15-foot tall walls encircled a flat floor made of hard packed sand, stained red and brown in more than a few places. The floor itself was slightly oval in shape, a hundred yards across with absolutely no cover anywhere and only two doors, his and one opposite it.

He looked up, seeing that there were bleachers wrapping around half the arena floor. People filled the seats, not so densely packed that he couldn’t see the benches, but he estimated there to be a few hundred people. Most of them were wearing some sort of armor while a decent number were wearing robes.

His attention was drawn to the opposite side of the arena where a large, elevated viewing box sat above a platform with a railing. The platform looked to be more exclusive seating, based on the fewer people all wearing very nice armor or robes. Above it, in the viewing box, was a small gathering of well-dressed people, seated but looking on in interest.

It had been movement that drew his attention to that side of the arena along with words that echoed around the completely enclosed space. A human man wearing long robes, which looked religious in nature, stepped to the front of the balcony and spread his arms out.

“Honored patrons! We have a little surprise tonight. As many of you have guessed buy its appearance, it is a fresh lycan. One of our aspirants found this one in the city, luring women to it, and was able to adhere a containment talisman to it.” the priest said, his voice amplified by some magical means.

Kurt wanted to snarl at being referred to as ‘it’ but held his tongue as the man continued and his opponent stayed put at his end of the arena. He was finally getting over his stupor and would gladly use the time to finish clearing his head.

“So, it is that we let our newest hunter, Lokin, have the honors of blooding the creature.” The priest gestured to the other side of the arena where Kurt’s opponent raised his arms, holding his mace and buckler aloft.

The crowd cheered and clapped until the priest settled them. “For those who only just joined us, Lokin is at the first stage of his cultivation and was able to put on a good showing against the last lycan. He forced it to shift very quickly in the fight and was able to overpower the beast within a few minutes. Let’s see how he manages against a fresh one.” With that, the man stepped back from the edge of his balcony and took a seat, still able to see the entire arena clearly.

Lokin immediately began to advance, his posture tense but his arms still lowered as he was some distance away. Kurt watched, evaluating his options while the crowd erupted into a cacophony of noise.

Seeing he had a few seconds until he had to do something, Kurt’s elven mind went to work. He really wished he knew if his magical guns would work here but hadn’t had time to test it. That meant he really didn’t want to test it at that moment and possibly end up with a dud.

He also recognized that he had a certain role put upon him by whoever this group was and he was expected to act the part. They probably assumed he would be a crude monster who fought based on instinct more than anything else. None of them would expect that he was a very rational person when shifted, despite blending with his wolf a little when in his other form. He could play along for a moment and see where things went from there as he figured out what was going on.

As Lokin grew closer, Kurt walked out to meet him and got a good look at the other man. He was wearing armor, similar to the guards they saw on the street but with the addition of arm and leg armor that went down to wrist and shin. On his head was a simple leather helmet with a steel cap and high cuts around the ears with a brim covering the T-shaped eye opening. His weapons were a steel buckler, with a rounded boss and a flanged mace on a metal handle.

“Come on, you filthy monster!” Lokin roared, stirring the crowd. “Come get your beating.” They converged a moment later, Lokin finally coming into striking distance and he swung his mace at Kurt.

Swaying backward, Kurt easily dodged the mace but couldn’t follow up with a counter. Lokin was oddly fast and experienced enough to not put too much weight into the swing and came back to a guard position in a moment.

“Oh-ho! A quick one!” The priest called out, apparently commenting on the fights. “Looks like Lokin will have his work cut out for him. Will he be able to force a shift or with the beast wear him down?”

Lokin came back in, circling around to Kurt’s left and lashing out with a diagonal swing of the mace. Kurt tried to circle around to the side while stepping in but his opponent pivoted and pushed forward with his buckler, swinging it edgewise at Kurt.

They went Back and forth for over a minute, Lokin making probing attacks and keeping Kurt from planting his feet for too long as they circled around the middle of the arena. Every time Lokin struck, Kurt would slip the blow, easily seeing them with his heightened perception but not quite able to get a perfect opening for a rebuttal due to Lokin’s suspiciously fast movements.

Getting tired of the show, Kurt switched things up and feinted with a lunge. Lokin danced back, swinging his buckler up and holding it out at arm’s length. Kurt felt like that told him a lot about the man and was looking to capitalize on his suspicion.

“So, the creature has some thoughts after all.” The priest said. “Likely not enough to be Lokin’s equal but instincts are the nature of the beast.”

“You won’t get me again. Not falling for your simple tricks.” Lokin growled at Kurt, his shoulders rapidly rising and falling as he panted.

Kurt had so far been impressed. They had been moving a lot, and the attacks were definitely straining enough that a normal human would be rather winded. If this was really Lokin’s second fight, then he was far above the normal human physical level. Perhaps it was part of that cultivation thing he heard about?

Still, enough was enough and Kurt dropped his shoulder while lowering his guarding hand before putting his heels flat on the ground. It was a pose that said he was cautious but clearly tired and looking to take a break. It was also a trap.

Lokin saw the sign and quickly stepped forward at an angle, coming around to Kurt’s far left where he couldn’t rotate to easily. He committed fully to a horizontal swing toward Kurt’s hip that would likely tear his flesh open and break the bones beneath… if it connected.

Seeing Lokin commit fully to the attack, Kurt hopped forward and spun around, the mace passing him by several inches. He then lunged forward, using his natural lycan strength and elven reflexes to make the maneuver seamless.

Pushing on Lokin’s wrist, Kurt forced the mace farther around, not allowing for the man to recover and putting the buckler out of range. He then planted his foot and drove his body upward, putting his shoulder under Lokin’s and trapping a leg to take him to the ground.

Landing on top, Kurt’s weight drove the air from Lokin as they hit the ground. Kurt was in the mount position, sitting on Lokin’s hips and holding the mace arm down by the elbow before ramming his fist into the only soft spot he could hit.

A fist connected with Lokin’s throat and Kurt felt the man buck under him out of reflex. He had to pull his next blow and deflect the buckler that was swung in retaliation but was able to do so pretty easily while grabbing hold of that wrist.

With a quick shifting of his weight, Kurt pulled the buckler hand to his chest and swung one leg around then over top of Lokin. He now had the man in a straight arm-bar and immediately thrust his hips forward. There was a popping snap followed by a scream of pain as Kurt broke the arm and tore all the ligaments in the elbow.

Lokin must have dropped the mace because Kurt felt his hand trying to work its way under his leg, but he didn’t let go, instead twisting the arm he held. There was another cry of pain before he felt the hand near his leg tug something.

Just past the rim of the buckler Kurt could see that Lokin was holding something before his fist clenched. Suddenly, Lokin began to glow with a grey tinged light and Kurt felt himself lurch along the ground. It felt to him like Lokin was literally pulled from his grip, even ending up with a broken finger from when he tried to hold on.

Kurt realized the man had teleported, likely using some sort of talisman, but something about it felt strange. There had been a sort of familiar ‘whiff’ of essence to the teleport that made his hackles rise. It was definitely divine in nature, but he could quite figure out how.

Rolling over, Kurt straightened to his feet and looked around as the crowd booed and his finger healed itself. He was just in time to hear the priest begin his commentary again. Or perhaps he hadn’t stopped? Kurt wasn’t sure since he had been focused on the fight.

“Ohh! And Lokin has to use his grace.” The priest said, drawing a sympathetic noise from the crowd. “Turns out that he wasn’t quite ready to tackle a fresh lycan on his own. But don’t worry, we had someone lined up just in case.

“Our next fighter, one who has already struck down over a dozen lycans, will surely be able to finish the fight!” The crowd cheered and the doors at the far end of the arena opened to reveal another figure walking out. “You know him. You love him. The one and only, Vinta ‘The Flayer’ Kostin!”

The crowd roared in applause as the man walked out. Kurt rolled his shoulders and went to step forward but his foot bumped into the mace that the Lokin had dropped. Deciding to play the game a little longer, Kurt shrugged and picked up the mace, giving it a few test swings as he went to meet his next opponent.