The roar of the crowd surged around Pag like a tidal wave, their bloodlust palpable in the stifling air of the pit. He crouched low, his chest heaving, sweat pouring from his brow as his gaze locked on the towering red dragon before him. Its scales shimmered like molten metal under the flickering torchlight, and its eyes burned with an intelligence that sent a shiver down his spine. The creature bore the marks of its captivity—deep scars crisscrossed its massive body, some fresh and glistening with blood, others old and jagged, pale streaks against its crimson hide. Thick iron shackles circled its limbs, glowing faintly with runes that bound its immense power. The dragon’s wings were tattered and torn, the membranes riddled with holes, rendering it incapable of true flight. At best, it could glide for a short distance, its freedom cruelly clipped by its captors.

  The beast flexed its massive wings, stirring the dust and sand on the pit floor, and unleashed a guttural growl that reverberated in Pag's chest. Its pain and fury were palpable, the weight of its shackles as oppressive as the silencing bonds biting into Pag’s own wrists. They were both prisoners, both pawns in this brutal spectacle designed to sate the crowd’s insatiable thirst for blood.

  Pag had no weapon, no magic. The silencing shackles suppressed the pyromancer's fire that burned in his soul. He was outmatched. But as the dragon’s gaze swept over him, Pag's mind worked furiously, seeking not victory but survival—and perhaps even a way to turn the tables on his captors.

  The dragon reared back, its massive chest expanding as a deep, rumbling hiss filled the cavern. The crowd roared in anticipation, their cheers echoing through the stone walls. Pag's instincts screamed at him to run, but he stood his ground, his eyes narrowing as he observed the creature’s movements. The way its flanks trembled with each breath, the faint shimmer of heat waves radiating from its maw—this was no mere beast. It was a weapon, a force of destruction, and perhaps, if he played his cards right, his means of escape.

  The dragon’s mouth opened, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth and the flicker of flames building deep within its throat. Pag dove to the side just as a torrent of fire exploded from the dragon’s maw, the intense heat scorching the air where he’d stood moments before. He hit the ground hard, the impact jarring his already bruised ribs, but he forced himself to roll to his feet, his mind racing.

  "Think, Pag," he muttered under his breath, ignoring the jeers and laughter from the crowd. "It’s a fire-breathing dragon. What can you use?"

  The answer lay in the very thing that bound him. The silencing shackles suppressed magic by dampening the flow of mana, but they weren’t impervious. The dwarf in the mines had once mentioned that they could be broken by overwhelming them with raw magical force. Pag’s gaze flicked to the dragon’s chest, where the glow of its internal fire was most intense. If he could somehow channel that energy, direct it toward his shackles…

  Another blast of flame roared past him, the heat searing the edges of his tunic. Pag’s mind snapped back to the present. He needed to get closer to the dragon without being incinerated. He darted toward a cluster of jagged rocks that jutted from the pit floor, using them as cover as the dragon swung its massive head, searching for him. The beast’s movements were slower than he expected, its bulk a hindrance in the confined space of the arena. That was something he could use.

  “Come on,” Pag whispered, peering around the edge of the rocks. The dragon snorted, a plume of smoke curling from its nostrils as it stomped closer. Pag’s heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to stay calm. This wasn’t about brute strength. It was about precision, timing, and understanding his opponent.

  The dragon’s claws gouged deep furrows in the sand as it advanced, its head swinging side to side in search of its prey. Pag waited, his muscles tensed, his eyes locked on the creature’s movements. When the dragon’s head turned away, he sprinted from his hiding spot, angling toward its exposed flank. The crowd roared as they spotted him, their cries urging the dragon on, but Pag ignored them. His focus was singular.

  The dragon’s head snapped toward him, its eyes narrowing as it prepared another fiery assault. But this time, Pag didn’t dodge. He skidded to a halt directly in front of the beast, raising his shackled hands as if in surrender.

  “Do it,” he whispered, his voice steady despite the fear coiling in his gut. “Burn me.”

  The dragon hesitated, its eyes flicking to the glowing shackles on Pag’s wrists. The crowd fell eerily silent, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. Then, with a deafening roar, the dragon unleashed a stream of fire directly at him.

  Pag dropped to his knees, angling his shackled wrists into the heart of the inferno. The heat was unbearable, the air around him igniting in a blinding flash of light and flame. Pain seared his skin, but he gritted his teeth, focusing on the faint vibration he could feel through the shackles as the dragon’s fire overwhelmed their magical suppression. The metal grew hotter and hotter, glowing red as cracks began to spiderweb across its surface.

  With a deafening crack, the shackles shattered, the force of the dragon’s flames obliterating the magic that bound them. The explosion sent Pag flying backward, the impact knocking the wind from his lungs as he tumbled across the pit floor. He came to a stop in a heap, his body aching, his skin raw and blistered. But as he pushed himself to his knees, he felt it—a flicker of power, like a spark reigniting within his core.

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  The crowd erupted into chaos, their cheers turning to cries of shock and confusion. The dragon, sensing the shift in the air, reared back on its hind legs, its wings unfurling as it let out a deafening roar. Pag staggered to his feet, his hands trembling as he felt the familiar warmth of mana flowing through him once more. The shackles were gone. He was free.

  He turned his gaze to the dragon, his mind racing. It was still a threat, but it was also an opportunity. The guards were already scrambling to regain control, their shouts cutting through the din as they rushed to the edges of the pit, weapons drawn. Pag knew he had only moments before they intervened.

  “Alright, big guy,” he muttered, raising his hands and summoning the flicker of flame that had been dormant for so long. “Let’s make some chaos.”

  With a sharp gesture, Pag sent a small burst of fire toward the dragon’s flank, not to harm it but to get its attention. The beast’s head snapped toward him, its eyes blazing with fury. Pag took a step back, his hands raised defensively.

  “You want out of here as much as I do, don’t you?” he said, his voice low and steady. The dragon growled, smoke curling from its nostrils. “Then let’s break this place apart.”

  The dragon’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, and then, with a roar that shook the very ground, it turned its fury toward the arena walls. Flames erupted from its maw, engulfing the guards who had ventured too close. The stands above the pit erupted into chaos as spectators scrambled to escape the inferno, their screams echoing through the cavern.

  Pag didn’t wait to see the aftermath. He sprinted toward the edge of the pit, using his rekindled magic to propel himself upward in a burst of flame and force. He landed on the edge, his legs trembling but steady, and turned back to see the dragon wreaking havoc below.

  The time for survival was over. It was time to escape.

  The creature’s rage was a force of nature, its flames tearing through the arena, reducing everything to ash and rubble. Pag took a deep breath, his gaze hardening as he turned toward the labyrinthine tunnels that led out of the mines.

  The screams of the crowd echoed behind him, mingling with the roars of the dragon as it unleashed its fury. Chaos reigned supreme in the arena now. The guards, who had been so confident in their control, were panicked, their commands drowned out by the tumult. Pag sprinted through the tunnels, his rekindled magic lighting his way with a faint, flickering glow.

  The labyrinth was a maze of shadowy passages and dead ends, but Pag moved with purpose, his mind sharp despite the exhaustion that tugged at his limbs. He could hear the distant sounds of combat—the dragon’s roars and the futile shouts of the guards attempting to subdue it. The walls trembled with the force of its rampage, loose stones tumbling from the ceiling as it tore through the structure of the mines.

  Pag skidded to a halt at an intersection, his chest heaving. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus despite the chaos around him. He couldn’t afford to get lost. He needed to find a way out before the dragon’s destruction brought the entire mine down on top of them.

  A faint draft of cool air brushed against his face, carrying with it the faintest hint of the outside world. His eyes snapped open, his heart leaping with hope. He turned toward the source of the breeze, sprinting down the narrow passageway as fast as his legs could carry him.

  The tunnel widened into a cavern, its ceiling soaring high above him. Shafts of dim light pierced through cracks in the rock, illuminating the jagged walls. Pag’s gaze swept the space, his pulse quickening as he spotted a crude wooden gate at the far end of the cavern. Beyond it, the faint glow of moonlight beckoned.

  He surged forward, his magic flaring as he raised his hands and sent a concentrated blast of fire at the gate. The wood exploded into splinters, the heat of his flames reducing it to ash in an instant. Pag stumbled through the opening, the cool night air washing over him like a balm.

  He emerged onto a rocky ledge overlooking a vast expanse of wilderness. The sky stretched out above him, a canopy of stars shining like distant beacons of freedom. Pag took a deep, shuddering breath, his chest tight with relief. He had done it. He was free.

  Behind him, the mines were in utter chaos. The dragon’s roars echoed through the night, mingling with the distant screams of the guards and prisoners still trapped within. Flames licked at the edges of the pit, the glow of the inferno casting an eerie light against the rock walls. Pag spared one last glance at the destruction, a flicker of guilt mingling with his relief. He couldn’t save everyone, but he had survived. He had escaped.

  As he turned to leave, a voice called out from the shadows. “Wait!”

  Pag whirled, his body tense, his mana flaring faintly in his hands. Two figures stumbled into the moonlight. The first was a grizzled dwarf with a heavy limp, his beard singed and his face streaked with soot. The second was a wiry human woman with sharp, defiant eyes, her tattered clothes revealing bruises and cuts but no hint of hesitation.

  “You’re not leaving us behind,” the woman said, her voice firm. “We fought too hard to get this far.”

  Pag hesitated, his gaze flicking between them and the wilderness beyond. “How did you—”

  “We followed the chaos,” the dwarf interrupted with a grim smile. “Your dragon friend made enough of it to cover our tracks. Figured you’d head for the first whiff of fresh air.”

  The woman stepped closer, her piercing gaze locking with Pag’s. “We’re coming with you. Whether you like it or not.”

  Pag studied them for a moment, his instincts screaming at him to go it alone, to avoid the burden of others. But the determination in their eyes mirrored his own. They were survivors, just like him.

  “Fine,” he said, his voice heavy with resignation. “But keep up. I’m not slowing down.”

  The dwarf chuckled, hefting a crude pickaxe over his shoulder. “We didn’t survive that hellhole just to lag behind now.”

  The three of them set off into the wilderness, the night stretching out before them like an open wound. Behind them, the dragon’s roars echoed one last time, a reminder of the chaos they had left behind. Together, they disappeared into the shadows, bound by their shared defiance and the fragile hope of freedom.