Morning came slowly, though none of the prisoners had truly slept. The night had been filled with the sounds of the camp, and every noise had kept them awake. Each sound was a reminder of where the prisoners were and what awaited them when the sun rose. When the heavy footsteps returned, every man in the cage lifted his head at once. The titan moved through the camp with the same cruel confidence as the night before, its massive form parting the gathered orcs without effort. Some stepped aside with eager grins, others bowed their heads slightly as it passed, but all of them watched with the same anticipation burning in their eyes. The creature stopped in front of the cage and studied the prisoners for a long moment, its yellow gaze drifting slowly from one face to the next as if deciding which of them it would most enjoy seeing die.

“Today,” the titan announced, its voice deep and heavy enough to carry across the entire camp, “the games begin.”

The words spread through the orcs like sparks through dry grass. Warriors began gathering almost immediately, forming a loose circle around the cages as they slammed weapons against the ground or against their shields in eager celebration. A low roar of excitement built among them as they waited for the rest of the rules. “Strength against strength. Blood against blood. If your champion dies, two more of you will die with him.” The orcs erupted in cheers, pounding their weapons and shouting in approval at the promise of violence.

The titan gave a low rumbling laugh at the sound and turned away, already losing interest now that the rules had been delivered. The men shifted closer together in the cramped space, speaking in low voices as the weight of the decision pressed down on them. Titus kept glancing at Rayz as if hoping the Master might somehow produce a solution none of them could see. Rayz felt the weight of those looks, but he said nothing. There was no clever answer waiting here, no strategy that could solve the problem for them. The only thing left was a choice none of them wanted to make. The silence stretched long enough that the sounds of the camp began to creep back in around them, but then Loto stood.

“I will do it.”

Every head turned toward him at once. Loto looked exhausted. His armor was gone, stripped away by the orcs the night before, and the bruises from the ambush still darkened his arms and shoulders. Dirt and dried blood marked his face, and the long night had clearly taken its toll on him just as it had the rest of them. Yet his posture remained straight and steady, and his eyes carried the calm certainty of a man who had already made his decision. Jorand frowned immediately. “Loto, think before you say something like that.”

“I have,” Loto replied simply.

Rayz stepped closer to him, studying his expression carefully. “You are not obligated to do this.”

Loto met his gaze without hesitation. “Barrett is gone. Someone must lead now. If I let another man walk into that pit while I stand here, then I am not worthy of the armor I wore yesterday. A leader stands first. Barrett taught us that.”

Rayz watched him carefully as he spoke, realizing that this was not reckless courage or empty bravado. Loto was not volunteering because he believed he could not lose. He was volunteering because he believed it was his responsibility. Titus stared at him with open admiration. Niwa lowered his head slightly in quiet respect. Even Jorand eventually exhaled and gave a reluctant nod, accepting the truth of what Loto had said even if he did not like it.

“You speak as a leader.” Rayz said quietly.

Loto nodded once. “Then let me act like one.”

The orcs returned not long after the decision had been made. Two of them approached the cage with heavy keys hanging from a chain at their belts, their tusked grins widening when they saw the prisoners already waiting. One jabbed the bars with the butt of his spear while the other fumbled with the iron latch. The gate swung open with a rough scrape of wood against dirt.

“Which one?” the orc asked with a cruel chuckle.

Loto stepped forward before anyone else could move. The orcs looked him over with obvious amusement. One of them grabbed his arm and shoved him out of the cage, nearly knocking him off balance before dragging him toward the center of the camp. The others followed behind the bars, gripping the wood and watching as the crowd of orcs began to gather around the pit once again. The arena had already been prepared. A wide circle of packed dirt had been cleared in the middle of the camp, surrounded by rough wooden posts hammered into the ground and strung with bones and scraps of armor from previous fights. Torches burned around the edge of the pit, their flames licking upward into the morning air as the orcs formed a roaring ring around the space.

Loto was shoved forward into the dirt, but he caught himself before falling and slowly straightened, brushing dust from his hands as he looked around the pit. The orcs laughed loudly at the sight of the lone human standing before them, some shouting wagers to one another while others slammed their weapons against the wooden posts surrounding the arena. Loto rolled his shoulders once and tested the weight of the sword the orcs had tossed at his feet. The blade was chipped and poorly balanced, clearly taken from some fallen soldier and never cared for since. Even so, Loto lifted it with calm familiarity, turning it once in his hand before settling into a quiet stance.

“A brave one,” the titan announced. “Good. Brave ones make the best sport.”

A thick rope creaked overhead as one of the cages suspended above the arena began to shift. Several orcs pulled on the line together, their grins widening as the iron latch above the pit snapped open. A low growl rolled down into the arena before anything could even be seen, and a wolf dropped into the pit. The beast landed lightly in the dirt, its body lean and scarred, its ribs visible beneath a coat of matted gray fur. It circled slowly the moment it touched the ground, its head low and its yellow eyes locked on Loto with hungry focus. Foam gathered along its jaws as it paced, testing the space between them. Loto shifted his stance only slightly, lifting the chipped sword into a calm guard as he watched the animal circle. From the cage Rayz could see the small adjustments in his posture, the careful way Loto positioned his feet in the dirt so that he could move in any direction without hesitation.

For several long moments the wolf simply circled him before lunging. The motion was sudden and violent, a blur of fur and snapping jaws. Loto pivoted sharply to the side, the beast’s teeth clamping shut on empty air where his arm had been a heartbeat earlier. His sword flashed downward in a quick slash that grazed the creature’s flank, drawing a line of dark blood before the wolf sprang backward with a furious snarl. The crowd erupted with laughter and cheers, but before Loto could reset his footing, another sound echoed above the arena.

A second cage creaked.

Rayz’s head snapped upward just as the iron latch released with a loud crack. For a brief moment nothing happened, and then another shape dropped from above. A second wolf landed in the dirt beside the first. The wolves circled apart from one another now, pacing in opposite directions as they watched the lone man in the center of the pit. Their growls blended together into a low, threatening harmony as they began to flank him from both sides. Loto shifted his stance again, turning slowly as the animals closed the circle around him. The wolves moved with patient cruelty, pacing opposite directions as they tightened their circle around him.

Loto turned slowly with them, never letting either animal disappear from his sight. The first wolf struck again as it lunged straight for his throat, jaws wide and claws tearing through the dust as it launched itself across the pit. Loto stepped aside, and the creature yelped and spun back with a snarl when the sword reached it. He then fell to one knee as the second wolf jumped and sailed over him, its claws slicing through empty air. The animal twisted in midair as it landed, but the movement left its side exposed for a brief moment, and that was when Loto struck. The sword drove forward in a sharp thrust that buried the blade deep into the wolf’s ribs. The animal collapsed with a violent yelp, kicking wildly in the dirt before going still.

The remaining wolf did not hesitate when its companion fell. Loto barely had time to wrench his sword free from the first wolf’s body before the second was already upon him. He pivoted sharply, bringing the blade up just enough that the beast crashed against the steel instead of his throat. The impact drove him backward across the dirt, his boots sliding as the wolf’s weight slammed into him, claws scraping against his arms and chest while its jaws snapped wildly inches from his face. For a moment the two of them struggled in a violent tangle of fur, steel, and dust. The wolf twisted its head, trying to tear past the blade pressing against its neck, while Loto strained to keep the animal from closing the final distance. Rayz could see the muscles in Loto’s arms trembling with the effort even from the cage, the strain of holding the creature back building with every passing second. The wolf’s claws raked across Loto’s forearm, drawing a thin line of blood that immediately soaked into the dirt beneath them, and the beast let out a furious growl as it pushed harder against him.

Instead of continuing to resist the wolf’s weight, he rolled beneath it, turning his body sideways and dragging the beast off balance. The movement caught the animal by surprise, its claws lost their grip on the dirt, and its weight carried it forward past Loto’s shoulder. In the same motion Loto twisted his hips and drove the sword upward, punching it into the wolf’s chest. The creature jerked violently, its body stiffening as the steel buried deep into its heart. For a heartbeat the arena fell silent as the wolf shuddered once more before collapsing fully into the dirt beside the first.

Orcs roared with approval, stomping their feet and pounding weapons against the posts surrounding the arena as the violence reached its bloody conclusion. Some howled with laughter while others shouted wagers across the pit, clearly delighted by the spectacle unfolding before them. In the center of the pit, Loto slowly pulled the sword free from the wolf’s chest and staggered a half step backward. His breathing came in heavy bursts now, sweat streaking through the dust on his face as he looked around the arena at the roaring crowd. For a moment he simply stood there, the blade hanging loosely at his side while the bodies of the two wolves lay motionless at his feet. The titan stood near the edge of the pit with its arms crossed, its massive frame towering over the others as it watched Loto with renewed interest.

Two orc warriors then stepped forward from the crowd. They were larger than most of the orcs in the camp, their shoulders broad and their armor patched together from layers of leather, rusted plates, and scraps of bone. Each carried a jagged blade that looked more like a butcher’s cleaver than a sword, the edges chipped and stained from long use. Loto had barely caught his breath from the wolves, yet now he faced two armed opponents at once. Still, the knight did not retreat. He lifted the battered sword again, settling into the same calm stance Rayz had seen before, his eyes moving carefully between the two orcs as they began to circle him like hunters sizing up their prey.

One of the orcs rushed forward with a brutal overhead swing meant to split Loto from shoulder to hip. Loto stepped aside just enough that the blade slammed into the dirt beside him instead of his body, and his sword flashed upward in a tight counterstrike that cut across the warrior’s ribs. The orc snarled in pain and staggered back, but the second attacker was already moving. Loto twisted sharply, barely managing to bring his sword up in time to deflect the blow. The impact rattled through his arms, forcing him back a step as the two warriors closed in again. Their movements were less precise than Loto’s, but their strength was undeniable. Each strike carried enough force to break bone if it landed cleanly.

Loto moved quickly, shifting his weight and turning his body so that the two attackers could never fully trap him between them. The first orc rushed again, swinging wildly in an attempt to overwhelm him, and Loto slipped beneath the strike and drove his sword forward in a quick thrust that forced the warrior to stumble backward, but the second orc saw the opening. The jagged blade slashed across Loto’s upper arm before he could turn in time. The cut tore through cloth and skin alike, and a burst of blood followed immediately as Loto staggered.

The two orcs pressed their advantage the moment they saw blood. They circled closer now, their confidence growing as the red stain spread across Loto’s sleeve and began to drip steadily onto the dirt beneath him. Loto adjusted his grip on the sword and steadied his breathing despite the pain burning through his arm.The injury had slowed him slightly, but it had not shaken his focus. His blade snapped forward in a quick thrust toward the nearer orc’s chest, forcing the warrior to twist sideways to avoid the point. The instant the creature shifted its weight, Loto pivoted sharply and delivered a second strike that cut across the back of the orc’s knee. The warrior roared as its leg buckled beneath it as the other charged. Loto ducked beneath the arc of the weapon just in time, feeling the wind of the blade pass over his hair as he rolled forward through the dirt. The motion carried him past the wounded orc, and in the same movement he drove his sword backward in a powerful thrust. The orc let out a cry as the blade buried deep into its chest. Loto ripped the sword free and shoved the collapsing body aside just as the second warrior came crashing toward him again with a roar of fury.

The knight blocked the first strike, but the impact sent a painful jolt through his wounded arm and nearly tore the sword from his grip. The second blow followed immediately, and this time Loto slipped aside instead of meeting it head on, letting the blade crash into the dirt beside him. Before it could react, Loto turned and brought his sword down across the orc’s neck. It staggered backward, dropping its weapon as a choking sound escaped its mouth. It fell heavily onto the dirt beside its companion, its body twitching once before going still. For a moment the arena fell silent.

Then the orcs erupted in thunderous cheers.

For a moment it seemed as though the fight was finished. The two orc bodies lay motionless in the dust beside the wolves, and Loto stood alone in the center of the arena with the battered sword still clutched in his hand. His chest rose and fell heavily now, and the wound along his arm had begun to drip steadily down his wrist, but he remained standing. Jorand let out a rough laugh that sounded almost disbelieving. Titus sagged against the bars, shaking his head in awe as he stared at the lone figure still standing in the dirt below. Then the titan lifted its arm, and the motion silenced the crowd almost instantly.

Rayz felt the cold shift in the air before anything else happened. The titan’s massive hand swept outward in a lazy gesture, and the creatures nearest the arena stepped aside to clear a path toward the pit. Three more orc warriors entered. They dropped into the arena one after another with heavy thuds that sent small clouds of dust rising around their boots. Each carried a brutal weapon meant for crushing rather than fencing, heavy blades and hooked axes.

“Loto!” Titus shouted in disbelief.

“That’s enough!” Jorand roared, slamming both fists against the bars of the cage with a violent crash.

Rayz’s fingers tightened around the wooden bars until the rough grain bit into his palms, his breath turning hot and sharp in his chest as fury and fear tangled together inside him. The sight of them descending on Loto like beasts made something deep within him burn with a violent, helpless rage. These creatures did not fight for honor, nor strength, nor any test of skill. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to tear the bars from the cage and carve through every one of them. Yet beneath the anger there was something worse, a cold feeling that he could not force away. He was afraid. Truly afraid. Because as the blows rained down on Loto in the dirt of that pit, Rayz could see the exhaustion in the knight’s body and the blood staining his arm, and for the first time since the fight had begun a terrible thought crept into his mind. Loto might not get back up.

The three orcs closed in without hesitation, eager to finish what they believed had already been decided. One of them stepped forward and slashed low, the jagged blade cutting across Loto’s thigh before he could fully recover his footing. Blood darkened the dirt immediately as Loto staggered, and before he could even react the second warrior lunged in from the side. Its weapon flashed and carved across Loto’s other arm, the blow tearing through flesh and forcing the knight back another step. The third orc came then with brutal force, raising its heavy blade high before bringing it down in a crushing strike meant to break him entirely. Loto managed to lift his sword in time to catch the blow, but the strength behind it drove him straight to the ground. Steel rang violently as he collapsed onto the dirt, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs while the three warriors circled him like vultures.

For a moment the world seemed to narrow to the pit below him. The roar of the crowd faded into a distant blur, and all he could see was Loto lying in the dust beneath the three towering figures. Rayz had seen this moment before. Barrett’s fall flashed through his mind like a blade of cold memory, and a terrible certainty crept into his chest. Not another friend cut down in front of him while he stood helpless behind a cage. Loto lifted his head slightly. Through the haze of dust and blood his eyes found Rayz’s. Rayz froze when he saw the look there. It was not panic. It was not defeat. Those eyes belonged to something he could never understand. Then, Loto smiled.

It was faint, barely visible beneath the blood and dust on his face, but Rayz saw it clearly enough to feel a flash of confusion cut through his fear. Loto’s head moved slowly, shaking gently from side to side. No. The movement was subtle, almost invisible beneath the chaos of the arena, but Rayz understood it immediately. No. The three orcs surged forward at once to finish him. No. The motion was sudden and precise, the kind of movement that came not from desperation but far greater. He rolled onto one knee as the first warrior lunged, letting the blade pass over his shoulder before driving his sword upward in a tight thrust beneath the creature’s ribs. The orc gasped as the steel pierced deep into its chest, collapsing before it even understood what had happened.

The second warrior roared and swung wildly, but Loto pivoted inside the arc of the strike with precision, his bloody arm guiding the blade across the orc’s throat in a clean, controlled cut. The warrior staggered backward, clutching at the wound as blood poured down its chest. The third orc charged with a furious bellow, and Loto stepped forward to meet it. Their blades collided in a burst of sparks, but the knight twisted his body at the last instant, redirecting the blow and slashing his sword through the orc’s face. Blood gushed the wound, and the orc dropped into the dirt.

Then the knight sank slowly down onto one knee, his sword planting in the dirt beside him as his strength finally gave way. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, his vision clearly fading as blood continued to run from the wounds along his arms and leg. The roar from the crowd rolled across the camp like a storm breaking loose, weapons slamming against shields and wooden posts as the creatures howled their approval at the spectacle they had just witnessed. Some stomped their feet against the dirt while others threw scraps of bone and broken weapons into the pit in celebration. The titan lifted one massive arm and pointed toward the pit.

“Enough,” it growled.

Several orcs jumped down into the arena immediately, grabbing Loto by the arms and shoulders before he could even attempt to stand again. The knight barely resisted. His strength was gone now, the sword slipping from his hand as the warriors dragged him across the dirt like a prize taken from the hunt. Rayz and the others were already pressed against the bars of the cage when they brought him back. The gate was thrown open and the orcs shoved Loto forward without ceremony. Jorand caught him first, wrapping a powerful arm around his shoulders before the knight could collapse entirely. Titus grabbed his other side while Niwa and Osric pulled him the rest of the way inside the cage.

“Lay him down!” Niwa said quickly.

They eased Loto to the dirt as carefully as they could. Blood still ran from the deep cuts along his arms and thigh, soaking into the dust beneath him as the others immediately began tearing strips of cloth from their sleeves and tunics. Titus ripped a piece from the bottom of his shirt with shaking hands while Osric pressed a wad of cloth against Loto’s wounded arm to slow the bleeding.

“You mad fool..” Jorand muttered, though there was no anger in his voice.

Rayz knelt beside Loto as the others finished binding the worst of the wounds. For the first time since the fighting had begun, the knot of fear in Rayz’s chest slowly began to loosen, replaced by a deep, almost dizzying wave of relief. He had spent years traveling the world, crossing blades beside warriors whose names were spoken with pride in courts and barracks alike. He had seen masters of the sword and soldiers hardened by a lifetime of war. Yet none of them had moved the way Loto had in that pit. None had fought with such instinct, such control, such quiet brilliance born not of arrogance but of something deeper.

Rayz studied him for a moment, then spoke softly.

“You were extraordinary.”

Loto blinked at him through the haze of exhaustion and pain, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I just did what needed doing.”

“No. You did more than that.”

For a moment something flickered across Loto’s face. Grief, sharp and brief, like the memory of a wound that had not yet finished healing. But it did not linger. In its place came something steadier, something stronger.

Rayz held his gaze. “You are in command now.”

Loto glanced around the cage, seeing the faces of the men gathered close to him, their clothes torn where they had ripped away pieces to bind his wounds, their expressions carrying the same mix of relief and admiration. He tried to push himself upright, stubborn pride still flickering in his eyes, but Rayz rested a hand on his shoulder before he could rise.

“Rest,” Rayz said gently. “You have earned it.”

Loto let out a long breath and allowed his weight to sink back against the dirt. His eyes drifted closed as the last of his strength gave way, though the faintest hint of a smile remained on his lips. And as Rayz watched him slip into unconsciousness, he realized that for the first time since the cages had closed around them, the men of Varrock no longer felt like prisoners waiting to die.

Chapter Seven

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