The corridor through which Korro walked was filled with embodied memories that demonstrated how brutal the previous battles had been. On the floor, blood formed mysterious lines and shapes; teeth scattered everywhere—some small and others large—and even a horn thrown away as if insignificant, revealed the intensity of the preceding battles.

  "We are now at the entrance of the combat arena," said the stadium official, stopping. "Stay here until they call your name."

  With that order, the handler left. Korro watched him until he disappeared into the darkness of the hallways. Then, he looked ahead to examine the stage where he would fight.

  It was a simple arena, like many others: delimited by a square marking its boundaries and several circular lines destined to position the fighters.

  The presenter approached: an individual approximately one meter eighty-seven centimeters tall, dressed in fine and loose clothing that evidenced his desire to project an elegant image to the public. His horns, adorned with rings that complemented his attire, denoted a taste for luxury and ostentation.

  Then, he directed his gaze to the audience, who acclaimed him as if he were a star. At one moment, he raised his hand demanding silence, and the atmosphere immediately became expectant.

  "Welcome everyone to the twelfth round of the official shamonak fights!" he proclaimed, extending his arms. "The previous rounds have demonstrated the power and resilience of the modern generation of fighters: warriors capable of moving mountains and enduring the blows of gods."

  "On this occasion, we will have as protagonists students of those who were once the most powerful shamonak fighters. With this preamble, I present Korro, student of the legendary Vixkard."

  The crowd burst into applause and chants upon hearing the mention of Vixkard. Knowing his past and his contributions to the planet, they received Korro with great expectation, presuming he would be a powerful and brave warrior.

  However, the reality was very different. Korro felt a deep fear; it was his first fight. His heart was beating with such intensity that it seemed about to disintegrate. At one moment, his vision blurred, almost causing him to faint. Nevertheless, he managed to recover, holding his chest while advancing towards the light of the arena.

  When his figure appeared completely, the atmosphere changed. Some kept a sepulchral silence, while others observed him with open contempt.

  Many knew Korro's criminal life as the former leader of the Steel Fangs. Some had directly suffered his crimes, and even several had lost loved ones due to his criminal influence.

  Consequently, instead of being received with expectant applause, he was received with a wave of boos and objects thrown by the audience. A glass full of a peculiar liquid hit his forehead: it was a soda made with flavored bubbles from the city's extramural ponds.

  "I suppose people don't forget so easily," he said to himself, cleaning the liquid remains with his hand and then licking it.

  Meanwhile, in the upper stands of the stadium, Tawnylon and Vixkard observed the scene. Tawnylon devoured small pieces of meat that crunched between his teeth, while Vixkard remained attentive to every sound.

  "Are they really booing him?" asked Vixkard.

  "Indeed," responded Tawnylon, closing his provisions bag. "Apparently, he does not enjoy the majority's favor."

  "It's understandable," reflected Vixkard. "Leaving behind a life of crime is not simple. The past always pursues us, no matter how much we try to escape."

  The presenter rearranged his clothing and cleared his throat, directing his gaze towards the side entrance, from where a glacial air emanated.

  "We now present his rival! A competitor with a streak of five consecutive victories in shamonak fights. Student of Takemaru, the former fighter of the ancient khumulak king — who could not attend due to an indisposition — I present Adamas Septum!" his voice resonated with renewed energy throughout the stadium.

  From the entrance emerged a yhamak of an intense gray tone, darker than usual. His hair, an amalgam of black and gray tones, contrasted with eyes of a deep purple. His horns, slightly above average — approximately twenty-five centimeters — stood elegantly.

  The most distinctive aspect of his appearance was his body markings: a horizontal line with straight strokes extending from his ribs to his back, standing out on his skin.

  His entrance was apotheotic. He greeted the crowd with triumphant gestures, which acclaimed him like a hero. Some followers even wore attire similar to his.

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  "A gray has fallen to me in my first fight," reflected Korro. "This must be a nightmare."

  "I would bet that Takemaru did not come for anything other than to satisfy his appetite. Whenever I saw him, he was consuming some food," Vixkard muttered between his teeth.

  "Are you upset because Takemaru was one of your few defeats?" inquired Tawnylon, arching an eyebrow.

  "Indeed, I am somewhat resentful," admitted Vixkard.

  Thamuz observed from the entrance where Korro had been moments before, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, meticulously analyzing his opponent. He let out a slight sigh.

  "That gray yhamak is too similar to Bhaxmunt Exilias," he commented, darkening his gaze. "I hope he doesn't possess the same combat capacity."

  Adamas stopped in front of Korro, dominating him with a notable height difference; Korro barely reached his chest.

  "You're too small to be a shamonak fighter," Adamas mocked. "So tiny that I could crush you right now. However, I won't do it. I know your story, Korro Bastherat, son of a prestigious shamonak fighter who died in combat. You became a criminal to satisfy your own desires, harming many in the process. Now you're here, in a distinguished event like a shamonak fight. Are you trying to redeem yourself or, on the contrary, mock us? If it's the latter, I'll make sure to defeat you in the most humiliating way possible."

  Korro seemed to be nodding off, with saliva dripping from his mouth. His almost closed eyes suggested he was about to fall asleep, until a small paper ball, thrown from the stands, hit his head, instantly waking him up.

  "Did you say something? I almost fell asleep; I couldn't rest well last night," he responded with absolute disinterest.

  A vein pronounced itself on Adamas's forehead, showing his growing fury. Nevertheless, he closed his eyes, sighed, and turned his back, starting to walk away.

  "You'd better know how to walk on your hands," Adamas sentenced, stopping abruptly and looking at him sideways, "because I intend to tear off your legs."

  Both fighters went to the extremes of the arena. Korro executed his ritual: he grabbed his knees, raised one leg and stamped it on the ground, repeating the movement with the other.

  Adamas, for his part, flexed his muscles, making his bones crunch while greeting his fervent audience. He smiled and pointed with his finger, manifesting his appreciation.

  The presenter withdrew, dedicating a last look to the contenders. A smile that exposed several teeth of a luminous material on his face before disappearing into the darkness of the hallways.

  Korro adopted his combat position: arms extended to the sides, slightly crouched. Adamas, in contrast, assumed a posture identical to Thamuz's: completely upright, hands extended, with one leg forward, as if he were prepared to deliver the first blow.

  The bell rang and, just as Korro was about to charge at Adamas, the sound seemed to fade. Adamas instantly disappeared in front of him, reappearing like a ghost and delivering an open-palm blow with devastating force to his chest.

  Korro was projected several meters backward, rolling on the ground until stopping at the arena's edges, on the verge of falling out.

  "I didn't hit you with my full power, but you seem so weak that you haven't resisted even a single impact," declared Adamas, crossing his arms with a mocking tone. "What a disappointment. I thought you would at least survive a few more seconds."

  A slight groan spread through the arena. Korro began to rise, holding his chest with both hands, trembling but determined to stay on his feet.

  "You hit like a baby, damn 'griglet'" he pronounced with contempt.

  Upon hearing the term "griglet", Adamas was seized by uncontrollable rage. It was a discriminatory expression formerly used to refer to gray-skinned yhamak.

  "Don't call me that!" he roared, launching himself against Korro with all his strength.

  Korro smiled, aware that his provocation had taken effect. He positioned himself with arms open, observing Adamas's charge and waiting for the impact.

  At the last moment, he moved laterally and placed a foot to cause his fall. However, Adamas managed to tense his fingers, clinging to the arena floor and avoiding disqualification.

  "Damn spawn!" he exclaimed, spinning his arm with the intention of striking Korro.

  The blow grazed Korro's lips, which he barely dodged, cutting himself on contact with Adamas's knuckles.

  Suddenly, Korro launched himself at him with surprising strength, knocking him down and beginning to repeatedly hit his head, just as he had done previously with Thamuz.

  Adamas could only cover himself with his arms. Despite Korro's apparent physical disadvantage, his blows were extraordinarily powerful, comparable to those of a professional shamonak fighter. Aware of his vulnerability, Adamas could not allow himself to receive direct impacts to the face.

  Korro continued his fierce attack, generating even a smoke trail around his body, until a sharp pain in his chest forced him to stop, touching the affected area and separating from Adamas.

  Adamas suddenly rose and discharged a kick on Korro's injured form, directly impacting his stomach and making him roll on the ground again.

  Determined not to give him a reprieve, Adamas launched himself at him, attempting to stomp with a colossal force that made the combat arena rumble. Korro rolled frenetically, barely avoiding each onslaught.

  In a crucial moment, Korro rose with the last of his strength, avoiding being crushed. He observed how Adamas lunged directly toward him, arms completely open.

  Identifying a vulnerability in his opponent's posture, Korro took advantage to discharge a powerful blow to Adamas's solar plexus. The impact made him recoil, gasping and desperately seeking air.

  Exploiting that moment of weakness, Korro embraced him, positioned himself at his back, and fell backward, executing a suplex that resonated throughout the stadium. A dust cloud rose, sending air gusts toward the spectators.

  "Who executed that move?" asked Vixkard. "At this point, I cannot clearly perceive the fighters' presence."

  "It was Korro," responded Tawnylon, observing the scene with expectant eyes. "He has managed to perform a suplex on Adamas. A dense dust cloud currently covers the arena."

  When the dust dissipated, the public broke into cheers of support and enthusiasm for Adamas. Adamas, however, clung to Korro's arms with excessive strength, as if intending to tear them apart. His fixed and intense gaze transmitted an overwhelming determination.

  "I've changed my mind," he declared with a supernatural smile. "It won't be your legs. Now I'll keep your arms."