The next few days passed fairly quickly. Kage spent most of his time observing the streets, eavesdropping on passersby. After a couple of uneventful nights, finding someone who had not heard about the auction proved to be rather difficult. Most, who still valued life, stayed out of it, claiming it “Not worth their time.” Which in theory, made practical sense.

  The few that specialized in providing medical treatment to those fallen ill were usually monitored by the guard. The empire refused to provide education on proper treatment for most injuries, making the services of those that could much more valuable. So, those with diseases and fatal conditions couldn’t care to expedite the process in the auction.

  On the last day, the sun set softly, as if to rest. An orange hue washed over the clear sky, fading over the mountains in the distance. Lowly chatter rose into the air, dying down with every minute the light faded from the sky.

  “If you get matched with…” Vaan gulped, “You-know-who. What will you say to him?”

  Kage leaned against the rusty railing on the elevator, which seemed to be moving at the pace of a broken trolly on cobblestone. “Haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

  “What?” Vaan yelped, “How can you be so calm and irrational? This is serious stuff, you’re planning to overthrow the—”

  Kage punched him in the shoulder, “Right now Vaan, I need you to do your part, and I do mine.”

  “But we need a plan, or some sort of way to do things logically.”

  “I have a plan: to get my father back and bring the empire down,” said Kage, his voice stern..

  “A lot easier said than done.”

  A loud clunk rattled the elevator, followed by a few more, until slowly, the doors slid open.

  A large, open hallway revealed itself to them, perfectly inline with the elevator doors. Doors were absent from either side for what seemed like hundreds of feet, and the only shadows occupying the space were those from the tiny wedges in the walls, and of course, the endless line of participants stretching down the corridor.

  A few turned back around to see who showed up, some laughing at the sight of Vaan—a small teenage boy with ripped shoes and no sense of belonging—while most minded their own business, sizing up one another before the main event.

  Fluorescent lights hung loosely from the ceiling, some flickering, some too bright to stare into. Since the only light source came from above, Kage’s face remained hidden within the shadows of his hood.

  “You go on ahead,” said Kage. “I’ll see you after all this nonsense.”

  “Go on ahead?” Vaan questioned, trying to hide the fear in his voice. “Where exactly am I supposed to go?”

  “This line is for participants. Phenix will most likely meet you at the front of the line and take you somewhere safe from these people.”

  “You say probably as if you’re not sure.”

  Kage slowed his footsteps as they approached the line, only meters away from a foul, harry old man. White patches of hair sprawled on both sides of his head, trailing down to a ripped, rainwashed jacket.

  “It’s more of an educated guess.”

  “That’s not—”

  The old man spun around half-hazardly, “Oi, quit the yappin back here,” cutting Vaan off while hinting at a knife in his pocket. “Or I’ll do it for yuh.”

  “Now, now,” Kage gestured politely, "no need to be so hasty. This young man right here is the whole reason for this event.”

  The old man raised a brow, “Wut you on about?”

  “Vaan here is the kind gentleman who gave the prize up for auction.”

  “What are you—” Vaan yelped.

  “Ahhhh,” The old man’s lips curled into a smile. “So if I kill’m now, I’ll getha prize!”

  Kage pushed Vaan ahead, “Here’s your motivation, now run.”

  Vaan did so without a second thought, racing down the endless hallway of criminals and flickering lights. The old man turned after him, stopping after the collar of his jacket tugged backwards from Kage’s grip.

  “Whadya think ur doin?” The old man spat, revealing missing teeth, and a gnarly frown.

  “Leave this place,” Kage stared down at him, like a looming monolith grazing over a field of peasants.

  The old man tried to retaliate, but as he locked eyes with the man in the hood, his confidence vanished. In that moment of hesitation, a weight fell over him, forcing the tiny hairs on his body to freeze. The old man tried to speak, yet only a whisper of hushed tones escaped the fear in his throat. After what seemed like hours, his legs turned on their own, bolting towards the elevator, screaming.

  Kage waited patiently in what seemed like a never-ending line, every now and then an ache grew from the core in his chest, taunting him. A foul stench began to fill the corridors; one of sweat, dirt, and spit. As Kage approached the double doors, which he assumed was the entry, a younger, polished gentleman stopped him.

  He held a clipboard in his left hand, a pen in his right, and a stern expression in his brow which had been solely focused on the clipboard. He wore an odd uniform, made of material Kage couldn’t recognize. “Your name sir?” He asked, his eyes on the paper at hand.

  “Kage.”

  The man proceeded to write something on his clipboard, then spoke, as if following standard protocol for every contestant. “With your participation in this auction, you are to be made aware of possible injury, sickness, and/or death upon your entry. Rules are set in place to make the auction fair for all participants, however, rules cannot prevent the actions of man inside this establishment.” Then, for the first time, he looked up. “Do you accept the conditions of your participation?”

  “Yes,” Kage answered.

  “Very well,” The man gestured through the iron-bolted double doors, “You may enter. Your number is 169, please don’t forget it. Follow the arrows to your waiting area. You are assigned to the Red Ward.”

  Kage nodded, continuing ahead. As he slowly stepped through the double doors, two passageways greeted him. Just as the man had mentioned there were 4 arrows split two ways alongside a curved wall. A yellow and green arrow had been painted poorly on the ground, facing left. A red and blue arrow shared a similar paint pattern, pointing right. Given the fact Kage was a part of the red ward, right seemed like the correct choice.

  Just how big is this building? Has it really been this long? Kage thought as he followed the arrows. The wall on his left felt smooth to the touch, and as he traveled further, it seemed like he was making his way around a massive cylinder. After what seemed like a while, the blue arrow finally stopped, pointing to another set of double doors on the right side of the wall. Shortly after, the red arrow did the same, exactly at the halfway point of the circle.

  Kage looked around before stepping through, noticing the green arrows not too far up ahead. After a moment of hesitation, he pushed the doors open, quickly greeted by more fluorescent lights and an elevator?

  As he stepped through, the doors shut behind him, and the elevator awaited his command. There were close to one hundred buttons on the wall, yet all were capped off except for one with a large red arrow pointing at it. Given no other choice, he tapped it.

  As if awaiting his touch, the elevator plummeted downward, nearly sending Kage to the ceiling. Within seconds, the elevator stopped dead in its tracks, and after a few loud screeches and rumbles, the doors slid open.

  Kage winced at the flash of blinding lights before him, adjusting slowly with every step forward. Chatter filled his ears from all around, bouncing off the walls like bugs against windows.

  The elevator doors shut behind him with a loud thud, and Kage could hear the elevator shoot back upwards, awaiting the next guest. As he turned his head, he could see all the walls around him painted in a deep, crimson red. It seemed fresh, as the smell of poorly dried paint reached his nose fairly quickly.

  The room, or rather facility he had ventured to stood obscenely large, representing a perfect circle, with the ceiling reaching nearly 4 stories high. Dozens of others were either idly standing by, or chatting with each other in loud, obnoxious voices.

  I’d rather not stand out, Kage thought as he walked alongside the wall, sticking to whatever shadow was available. The ground was sturdy, yet felt hollow to the step, which seemed rather odd considering the building they were in.

  “Hey you,” A voice called out to him, but Kage ignored it. “Hey!” Someone called again, louder this time.

  Kage stopped, turning towards the noise.

  A middle-aged man approached him, his hair slicked back in a tail, making his hairline standout like the letter m. He wore a builder’s clothes, stained with dirt, ash, and oil. “I have an eye for the abnormal,” He spat. “I was the first one in here you see. I’ve watched each and every 64 persons enter. And you were the first to start walking alongside the wall, quietly too.” He paused for a moment, as if giving Kage a moment to analyze. “What do you know about this auction stranger?”

  “My guess is as good as yours,” Kage said, Calmly.

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Your suspicion against me lies in the fact I wanted to avoid attention by walking alongside what wall. That seems rash and superstitious.”

  The man laughed, “But that’s just what I’m talking about. You see, a lot of the people here, like myself, have been to the Highrise Auctions before, yet we’ve never been brought to a room such as this before, let alone not given any instructions or directions.”

  “And what makes you think I know anything more than you do?” said Kage, I’ll redirect the question back at him, see how he answers.

  “You walked in, without a single ounce of fear or confusion, as if knowing the unknown.”

  Kage thought about his answer for a moment, “Phenix told everyone participating in this auction that it would be played differently than usual. How can someone predict exactly what is to come.”

  The man chuckled to himself, as if satisfied with Kage’s answer. “I know the abnormal when I see it,” He said in a tone as if meant for only himself. “I know a lot of people in the Dustlands, more than I can count. And never once have I met or heard of a Phenix.”

  Kage’s brows dropped, followed by a dryness swelling his tongue.

  “Seems like you do know more than any of us here. But that’s quite alright, I’ll make sure to keep an eye on you. The name’s Tink, I’ll see you around,” He walked off, waving a hand, back to observing the elevators burst open and slam shut again and again.

  Does Phenix not usually host these auctions? Kage thought to himself again. Interesting… I’ll keep a note of that for now.

  An hour ticked by after Kage first entered the red chamber, Tink’s words still lingering through his head. The people around him had begun to grow antsy, unable to sit still without a clue as to what’s to happen next.

  A head count resulted in exactly 94 men, and 5 women. Moments later, the elevator doors flew open, and another scrawny, half-shoed man walked in. Kage kept his eyes on the doors, but they never closed again. He spotted Tink across the chamber, roughly 80 meters away, who also appeared to notice the doors remaining ajar.

  Before Kage had another moment to observe, let alone think, a rough, robotic voice rained down to the chamber. “Hello Everyone.”

  Phenix, Kage recognized the voice, even through the telecom.

  “Firstly, I want to thank everyone for being a valued member, and participant of this month’s Highrise Auction. Your participation is of the utmost value to the Dustlands’ black market bidding. However, I’m sure most of you are not yet accustomed to the unusual environment,” Phenix pronounced the word unusual like a wave, rolling each syllable off his tongue in a mocking tone.

  “Due to such a large number of participants this time around, the rules have been altered to favor those without the greatest of fortunes. Each and every single one of you will have a fair chance to obtain 2, that's right! 2 core-imbued blades, crafted by one of the greatest smithers that has ever lived!”

  Kage clenched his jaw in frustration, while those around him grew smiles as they heard the intercom overhead.

  “Unfortunately, there were far too many registrations than we had expected, and the auction cannot start with this many. As you have noticed, all of you have been placed in the red ward due to the factor known as chance. 100 of you stand here, and only 8 will leave to participate in the auction.”

  The smiles that Kage first saw suddenly dropped, replaced by looks of confusion, fear, and anger.

  “That’s right, 92 of you will unfortunately have to end your participation either voluntarily, or by force. The outcomes of the remaining 8 participants will be decided once there are only 8 of you left standing upright. How you come about getting to that number is entirely up to you.” Phenix laughed through the intercom, as if knowing exactly what would happen. “You may choose to simply lay down and not participate, however, given the nature of man, I reckon that not all of you will choose that option. So simply put, you may bargain or use force to get others to lay on the cold ground beneath you. Once 8 remain standing, the real auction will begin. You have 1 hour, happy auctioning.” With a few muffled sounds, the intercom went silent, as did the entire chamber.

  “Everyone!” A tall, reasonably fit man waved his hands before the chamber swung into uproar. He stood near the center, gathering the attention of most, if not everyone around him. “Before we engage with one another would anyone like to not parti—”

  His words cut off in a soft, hushed grunt as a blood-soaked knife pierced through his chest from behind. Slowly, his body slid down the tip of the blade, landing on the ground with a loud thud. Behind him stood Tink, wiping the blood off his knife into his maroon shirt, giving it a dark, cherry-like color.

  “You heard the man upstairs,” Tink chuckled, “Kill or be killed, no horseplay.”

  And with that, the chamber of lowly, foolish souls burst into chaos. Mercy had left the moment the doors to the red ward were open. The only thing that remained was violence and a lingering presence of unrenowned death.

  Kage backed against the wall, forced to set his anger aside for now. Those that stayed hesitant after Phenix’s triumphant explanation, were slaughtered like lambs, falling victim to those willing to murder for their own survival. Some tried to lay still on the ground, crying in fear. Some ran back to the elevator, screaming, banging on the doors to close and take them away from this hellscape.

  There were those that hobbled around with smirks glued to their lips, using their bare hands to steal the life of those around them. The smell of blood and metal swept through the chamber, and the once crimson-painted walls leaked much darker drops of paint.

  The windcutter isn’t here, Kage thought to himself as he did his best to ignore the death around him. One of the few women in the chamber charged at him from his left; she held a crooked fork, fear in her eyes.

  Kage ducked as he side-stepped around her, forcing a blow to the back of her neck. The woman dropped unconscious on the floor, her fork bouncing away from her with clinks and clanks along the ground.

  That won’t knock her out for long, but hopefully she realizes it’s better to stay down once she wakes in a few seconds, he thought to himself.

  With that, Kage ran, concluding it’s better to stay on the move than trod still against a wall. Perhaps if he were continuously moving, others would find it harder to approach him so carelessly.

  34, no, 35 left standing, Kage counted. Only 20 minutes left. The ground littered with corpses, some coughing, some trembling, and some as still as the night. He spotted Tink not too far away, seemingly enjoying himself in the onslaught. For a moment it seemed as if they caught each other's gaze, but Kage brushed it off as a mere coincidence.

  As time dwindled, fatigue pulled at those still standing. Breaths grew loud, slurring echoing screams and slowing each violent swing. The 5 women who entered the red ward were no longer standing, as the last had fallen with regret flooding her eyes.

  With 4 minutes left to spare, 9 remained standing. Kage and Tink were alone, 3 formed a small group along the far edges of the chamber, and the other 4 each held a small sharp object, slowly approaching Kage.

  “Looks like one mo’ should do,” One of the four men called to the others, his shoulders broad, covered in thick black hair. He must have lost his shirt somewhere in the brawl, revealing a large tattooed belly staring back at Kage.

  The three men followed behind him, confidence driving each step forward. Without giving Kage time to respond, they circled him, the large shirtless man stepping forth first, a wedge of rusty metal clenched in his grip.

  One of the men pulled down Kage’s hood from behind, then as if for a moment, the large man snickered. “‘I sure hope my eyes havn’t failed me yet. Yur that damn bastard Willow’s son ain’t ya?”

  Kage’s breath suddenly froze, “You know my father?”

  “Relax Kid,” The man chuckled, “Name’s Hog. Used to do some minin’ with yur old man.”

  The muscles clenching Kage’s jaw relaxed, “You were a miner?”

  “Sure was. Till they replaced the crew with more “qualified” workers,” Hog scoffed. “The hell whatever that meant.”

  Father never mentioned he was replaced, Kage thought.

  The intercom overhead buffered again, “1 minute left!” Phenix exclaimed, “If 92 of you are not on the ground when the time runs out, I’m afraid your participation will have to come to an end.”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Let’s kill him boss,” One of Hogs’ underlings smirked.

  Hog puffed an annoyed breath, “Relax will ya? Can’t you see we’re having a reunion here?”

  “I don’t recall we’ve met,” said Kage.

  Hog laughed, his belly jiggling with his cheeks, “Yur old man an’ I used to drink after the mines… Good times those were,” His smile slowly faded. “Real good times…”

  “30 Seconds remain,” Phenix stated, the intercom cutting off with a loud shriek.

  “Boss!” One of the men behind Hog snapped, “We have no time! If you’re not doing it then let me.” The scrawny man stepped forward, a metal pipe sat tightly in his grip.

  Kage hadn’t bothered to pay too much attention to Hogs’ sheer size before, but now that he was being approached by someone his own height, Hog undoubtedly towered over everyone around him.

  As Kage took a step back, Hog swung an open-palmed hand toward the scrawny man, sending him barreling with a loud clap across the blood-stained floor. The other two men backed up quickly, sharing a concerning glare.

  “Youngin’s ain’t got no respect for men having a conversation.”

  “Isn’t he your ally?” said Kage in a disapproving tone.

  Hog scratched at his stomach again, “Just picked em up on the way. Gave me a laugh or two in the line so I hadn’t bothered protestin’ em.”

  Before Kage could make an attempt at responding, the other set of locked doors at the other end of the chamber slid open, followed by the buffering intercom overhead. “And with that, 8 remain standing. Please make haste for the next event,” Phenix announced, malice guiding his words.

  Kage’s eyes darted from body to body around him, wincing at the blood-stained corpses devoid of life. Some were still alive, either severely wounded or trembling in fear, horror grasping their every breath.

  “Don’t think much of it Kid,” Hog turned, making way towards the doors. His giant feet crushed bones with ease, stepping without care. “This place ain’t for the faint of heart. Tis only a matter of time.”

  Kage followed closely, avoiding blood as much as he could. “You seem to know quite more than you let on. What exactly did you mean earlier?”

  Hog raised a brow, his back staring at Kage. “Yur old man never told yuh anything?”

  “The only thing my father mentioned about his time in the mines was that he fled while he still could. I never pressed further.”

  “No, No, No,” Hog dragged his words. “We were pushed out. Empire came strollin’ in, just like how they brought us there in tha first place, then pushed us out. Said somethin’ ‘bout an upgrade totha process. We were given coin to keep our mouths shut, and so we did just that.”

  “I do not doubt your word,” said Kage. “But it seems that your coin isn’t worth much if you’re telling me quite freely.”

  Hog chuckled, his belly shaking violently. “It matters not anymore. Why the hell do yu think I’m here intha first place. Whatever they’re planning up there, they’ve succeeded far ago. Might as well have some fun while yur at it.”

  They soon reached the open doors, only to be directed toward another elevator at the end of the hall. Tink, along with 3 other men, were already there, waiting impatiently. The two others whom Hog had under control followed slowly behind Kage, keeping a few paces back for their own safety.

  “Another thing,” Hog paused, stopping Kage with a massive hand on his chest. “Yur old man was a good soul. I’m sure he raised a fine bastard.”

  Kage threw Hog’s hand off his chest, “One more question for you.”

  “Spit it.”

  “Are there any others? Any more of you who are still out there.”

  Hog smiled, revealing a nasty row of charred, stained teeth. “From what I’ve heard,” Hog turned to face Kage, “Good luck finding any that are still breathin’. I’m only here for a lil’ fun before this place turns to shit.” He paused, gazing into nothing, remembering. “They had us do sum bad things. Real bad. Things I can’t atone for.”

  Kage restrained from asking further, “Thank you.”

  Hog shook his head back to the present, “Ain’t nothin to thank me for kid. Only giving sum intel to a trusted source.”

  “For what reason do you trust me so freely?”

  “Not you,” Hog laughed, purging forward. “Yur old man.”

  They soon reached the elevator doors where the others were waiting. An awkward silence washed over the group as the doors shut behind them, screeching in their ears.

  Tink held a blood-stained knife tightly in his right hand, smiling wide. The others beamed a ray of confidence as well; Hog yawned; Kage focused.

  After a few seconds, the doors flew open. An unpleasant, gut-wrenching odor greeted them with their first step. Even Hog, who would seem immune to putrid smells winced, his face shriveling as if a sour treat bit his tongue.

  “Welcome!” The man behind the intercom said, although there was no intercom, nor muffled static behind his voice.

  Phenix, dressed in crimson robes, turned to face the men from the red ward. A pair of dark leather gloves clapped together as he stood with joy. “A big greeting to you all for standing with might against the odds thrown against you,” His hands did most of the talking as he threw gesture after gesture. “8 Heroic souls, left standing with bravery!”

  “Just what the hell is this?” One of the men next to Tink stepped forward. He wore a patch of short, dark hair on his scalp. Cheap, hand-stitched clothes sagged atop his body, giving him an unappealing look. His nose sat crooked, his lips chapped and dry.

  Before he could continue, Phenix interrupted. “Why this is what you signed up for of course.”

  “Where is the Pit? I didn’t sign up for any of this.”

  “My my, but you did!” Phenix exclaimed, “You proceeded inside the doors after waiting in a line that was purposefully implemented to take a great amount of time. Then after hearing some vague instructions you proceeded to brutally murder 12 innocent participants, and gravely injuring 6. You did so without complaining, completely conscious of the actions you are performing. So, I find it odd that you complain now, after succeeding in your task, when you were very well capable of excluding yourself from participation.”

  The dark-haired man stepped back, irritated, a growl shivering up his throat.

  “Any other complaints?” Phenix opened his hands welcomely.

  No one else stepped forward. Instead, everyone shared an annoyed look with one another, as if dissatisfied with themselves.

  “Great!” Phenix clapped. “Now, please follow me. The red ward was the last to finish so you are all a little late to the party. Phenix waved everyone to follow, proceeding down a nearby staircase. The walls surrounding the staircase felt hollow, yet appeared to be covered by a layer of strong, rust-resistant metals. The fluorescent lights overhead kept a hollow buzz present down the stairway.

  As they descended one by one, tiny windows appeared on the right-hand side, fenced in by metal wires. Kage could make out people fighting, as screams and shouts reached his ears through the buzz of the lights.

  The stairway started to curve, and soon, they arrived by a door, which Phenix slid open. “Please enter swiftly, the Auction has already begun,” He prompted as he waved them in, repeating a circular motion with his hand.

  Everyone entered a room not too different from the rest of the building’s layout, and after Phenix shut the door behind them, he clapped again, as if to gather attention. “Welcome, Welcome! Now, As much as I would adore chatting away, those of you from the Red Ward were unfathomably late, as I have mentioned previously. So, I’ll have to explain the rules of this month’s Highrise Auction.”

  Everyone stood patiently, except for Hog, who dug endlessly through his nose, yawning.

  “Since we had so many wonderful participants this time around, 4 separate wards were put in place to weed out the herd: Red, Yellow, Green, and Blue. 8 left standing from each Ward, who move on to the start of the real action.” Phenix smiled, the edges of his eyes unwrinkling.

  “Real action?” Tink squinted, “What do you mean by that?”

  “Ah,” Phenix shot a finger towards the ceiling. “Why I’m so glad you asked. Kindly take a look to your left.”

  Everyone did so, glaring through a layer of twirling wire, making up a wall or barrier of some sort. Beyond the wired cables lay a field of blood-stained dirt, with the same fluorescent lights buzzing above. Although to describe this as a field would be an insult, as the layout resembled more of a small courtyard, or perhaps some sort of large chamber in a cave.

  “You will all face each other in a similar fashion as before, until 1 remains from each Ward. However, who will face who will be decided based on the numbers given to you upon arrival. Before anyone jumps with excitement, you should all know that we have some patrons observing this event elsewhere, so I ask you to put on a show.”

  “Patrons? Are you implying that the empire is observing this?” The dark-haired man stepped forward again, unable to put aside his frustration. “They ain’t supposed to be aware of this? Are you trying to get us all killed?!”

  “Please settle,” Phenix clapped his hands again. “Those observing are simply patrons to fund such a large scale Auction. They mean no harm, and will not go out of their way to cause you any harm either.”

  The man stepped closer to Phenix, now a breath’s distance away, ready to engage. “Are we just supposed to take your word for it? Huh? And who the hell are you to tell us otherwise? Where’s Shank? He runs these Auctions properly.”

  For the first time, Phenix’s smile dropped, and a fire lit behind his eyes. “Number 202. You will follow the rules set before you, for if you don’t, a fate far worse than death awaits your next step.”

  The dark-haired man stepped back, petrified, unquestioning. It was as if he saw something behind that dark, mysterious glare. Something far more evil than he could imagine.

  Phenix drew up another smile, “Now then. The rules are similar to before. Once there is only a single soul left standing, the match will be decided. And this time, those awaiting their turn can spectate from this room.”

  Kage kept his focus on Phenix, he’s up to something. I just don’t know what, why, or how yet.

  “Number 84 and 91, please step forward. You will take the first match.”

  Everyone watched as Hog—the largest man there—and another man stepped forward. The other man trembled, as he was originally one of Hog’s underlings, and knew the power behind Hog’s fists.

  Phenix led them through a narrow corridor on the other side of the room, and shortly after, they both arrived on each end of the arena. Hog held a large, bent pipe in his right hand. The other man bet his luck on a sharp piece of plywood.

  They didn’t have that before, Kage thought. Do they get a choice somewhere in between the arena and this room? Or do they get it assigned by Phenix?

  The round began as number 91 fell into a full blown sprint towards Hog. However, his bravery fell short once Hog effortlessly smacked the piece of plywood out of his grasp. Hog hadn’t even bothered to use the pipe. A simple sweep from his excessively large hands sent the plywood twirling into the air.

  Yawning, Hog grabbed the man by the waist as if he were a bottle of booze, chucking him across the arena. Number 91 rolled across the thin layer of dirt, refusing to stand up again, wallowing at his defeat.

  Phenix declared the winner, entering the starting room with Hog as the victor.

  “Tough fight,” Tink said, sarcastically, knowing that he would have to face Hog one way or another depending on how far he made it.

  Hog chuckled, oblivious to the sarcasm in Tink’s voice. “Maybe for the lil’ fella.”

  Phenix clapped, grabbing attention as if it were his job. “Now, now. I just got word from the other wards that most of the victors have been decided from the starting 8. So, we’ll have to expedite this process. Next up is numbers 28 and 301.”

  A man who’s been hiding behind everyone stepped forward, along with Tink shortly after. The man wore a firm jacket, a pair of beaten boots, and a hand that was missing, although replaced by a prosthetic one. His metal fingers wiggled, signifying full control.

  Tink scoffed, as if displeased. “Well Mav, your call, old school or not?”

  Mav tweaked his metal hand into a fist, replying with a raspy tone, “Old school always you little rat.”

  Phenix led Tink and Mav to opposite sides of the arena, waiting in the middle for both to enter. Shortly after, Tink emerged from a door on one end, Mav following through another. Both had empty hands, deciding to battle out using fists. Perhaps this is what he referred to as “Old School.”

  Tink stood slightly shorter than Mav, and a lot less built, yet he radiated nothing short of pure confidence despite his displeased look earlier.

  Phenix began the match, and both men took a fighting stance instantly. Tink pinched an ounce of dirt between his fingers, rubbing it down into a paste, then spreading it into a line across both cheeks. Mav seemed to find it amusing, letting out a laugh.

  However, as they got closer, Tink hid the fact that he scrunched up more dirt than he led on into one of his hands, splashing Mav in the face with a handful of dry soil.

  Mav winced, his vision blurry. Unable to get the dirt out and with only one hand able to feel, he started throwing punch after punch of where Tink’s silhouette appeared.

  Tink dodged the attacks swiftly, evading left and right until he reached for the back of his waistband, pulling out a small knife which he hadn’t possessed beforehand. Stepping forth through the flurry of swings, he jabbed the dull blade into Mav’s neck, turning it slowly as he dragged it across, letting loose a waterfall of dark red.

  Mav reached for his throat, gargling in agony as blood clogged his breathing, a painless sensation washing over him as the light slowly faded from his view.

  Tink wiped the blade on his shirt, not an ounce of remorse on his face. He then looked towards Kage and the rest watching, as if showing his superiority.

  Phenix waved a hand, and two men appeared from a hidden doorway in the distance, both wearing black dress shirts with Red collars. They rushed over, grabbing both Mav and the man from Hog’s match, clearing the arena.

  Phenix congratulated Tink, leading him back to the starting room, disposing of his blade in the process.

  Kage turned to Tink as they made eye contact again, “What happened to old school.”

  Tink smiled, “I did fight old school. I fought to win.”

  Kage narrowed his eyes, keenly examining the man before him.

  “For our third match,” Phenix started. “Will numbers 202 and 169 please step forward.”

  The dark-haired man from before stepped forth, giving Kage a dirty look as he observed his opponent.

  Phenix directed number 202 to the right, following Kage down a corridor to the left.

  Just before Kage disappeared out of sight, Tink called out to him with an enigmatic tone, “Don’t lose. I always like something to look forward to.”

  Kage ignored him, Focusing his attention on Phenix as they continued forward. “Who were those workers? Red collared uniforms? I’ve never seen that sort.”

  Phenix kept a bright smile, “I needed to distinguish my employees from the scum inside here. So I handcrafted some uniforms to be able to distinguish the difference.”

  “The men that ran out were clean shaven,” Kage questioned, unenthusiastically. “No holes in their clothes and a clean pair of boots. You don’t come around that in the Dustlands.”

  “I like my men polished.”

  “What exactly—”

  “Would you look at that,” Phenix interrupted him, “We’ve arrived. Please find your entryway through this door.”

  Kage exhaled heavily, annoyed. He entered the arena, empty handed, Phenix following. On the other end, number 202 entered through a similar doorway, two bottle-sized blades in his hands. They glistened under the fluorescence of the lights above, the handles forged into a sturdy grip.

  “I’m curious on how he found those,” said Kage in a not-so-friendly tone.

  “O, right,” Phenix’s brows perked up, “Thank you for reminding me.” He reached into his interior breast pocket, as if searching for something. After aimlessly digging around, he retrieved a small clothespin, then bent it straight using his thumb and index finger.

  “Is this a joke to you?” Kage glared at him, “I recall you claiming this event was fair for all.”

  “When did I claim it wasn’t?” Phenix replied humorously.

  Kage grabbed the pin, feeling ridiculous. Arguing with Phenix at this point wouldn’t get him anywhere closer to his goal. So, he snatched the pin, sticking it inside the sleeve of his robes.

  Phenix soon stepped into the center, aligning both Kage and his opponent 10 meters apart. Number 202 twirled the blades between his fingers, studying his opponent.

  The match began, but neither dared to move closer to one another. “Your name,” Number 202 barked. “What is it.”

  “Does that matter to you?” answered Kage.

  “I’d like to know the name of the man I’m about to kill.”

  Kage took a step closer, “Did you also get the name of the people you murdered an hour ago? Or does it only matter now?”

  The man frowned, awkwardly gesturing something impolite with the blades, “Those were ants. This is a real fight. Now give me your name, or I’ll carve it out of you.”

  “And how will you go about doing that?”

  As if ticking some nerve, a vein popped on 202’s forehead, “I’ll demonstrate for you,” He yelled, throwing one of the blades directly towards Kage’s chest.

  Kage pushed off the ball of his foot, side-stepping to the right, the wind following the throw barely missing his ear. The knife plunged into the dirt a few meters behind him, the handle sticking up.

  Kage glanced at it for a moment, as if considering picking it up. As he turned back around, 202 was now a hair’s length away, swinging the other blade with a firm grasp.

  Without enough time to react, the knife nicked Kage’s wrist, piercing his clothing and forming a thin red line across his skin.

  Kage scoffed, retreating backwards a few steps, his wrist stinging.

  Number 202 smirked, “Not bad, not bad at all. Seems like I underestimated your potential here.”

  Kage turned his wrist, noting the cut. The slight surge of adrenaline numbed the stinging, but that would soon subside. He pulled the blade that had been thrown out of the dirt, feeling its weight in his palm.

  “I offered that to make it fair,” the man snarled. “You should appreciate my kind gesture.”

  “I wouldn’t have used the word offer to describe your kind gesture,” said Kage.

  Phenix stood beside them, his posture perfect. His eyes danced back and forth from each side, always looking.

  “The name’s Pawk,” 202 barked, confidence shifting his tone.

  “I don’t recall asking,” said Kage, taking a step closer, loose on his feet.

  “You don’t need to,” Pawk did the same. “I want my name to ring through your head as you slowly rot away in the soil.”

  One breath, Kage closed his eyes, thinking back to his days of endless training. Exactly like he taught you, don’t hesitate.

  Seeing the opening, Pawk lunged forward, switching the blade's grip from his right to the left. However, his attack came from his right fist, which was now open. An uppercut flew for Kage’s chin, which would quickly be followed by a wide swing from the left, straight for Kage’s ribs.

  Expecting Kage to Dodge, Pawk’s grin disappeared, instantly replaced by a storm of pain. Kage had stepped forward, thrusting the blade he had picked up into Pawk’s fist, stopping the uppercut. Forcing his weight from his right to his left leg, Kage pushed off his foot, kicking Pawk’s knee, making the swing come short of his ribs.

  As Pawk twirled to the ground, Kage took yet another step, yanking the blade out of Pawk’s fingers. An agonized scream escaped from Pawk’s throat, and as he scrambled to stand, the bottom of Kage’s boot greeted his chest, sucking the air out of his lungs.

  Kage quickly thrusted the knives beside Pawk’s throat, forming an X shape with the tip of the blades. As Pawk inhaled, the skin of his neck edged along the blades, forcing him into small, shallow breaths.

  Deciding on the winner, Phenix waved over his workers to carry the wounded out of the arena. “My, My, Mr. Kage. Color me impressed.”

  “Don’t flatter me with bullshit.”

  Phenix laughed, “I had confirmed with you that all is fair.”

  The stinging sensation on Kage’s wrist had ceased, but forced him to walk out displeased nonetheless. As he entered the original room with the remaining contestants, the few that remained took a step back, avoiding their distance with the hooded man before them.

  Tink smirked, “I knew my hunch was right,” he murmured to himself.

  Kage ignored him, taking a spot near the wall where he could see the arena more clearly. He dimmed the background chatter from others, lost in thought.

  Phenix proceeded to name the last two numbers, leading them to the arena. Kage spectated as the two men greeted each other in the center of the arena, both barehanded. They were of equal stature, roughly the same age too.

  “Seems like it will be a fair fight,” Tink creeped behind Kage. “At least it would seem so to the naked eye.”

  Kage didn’t respond.

  “See the one on the right?” Tink pointed. “He’s come out on top 6 times in the past. He’s got plenty of winnings to show for. It’s curious as to why he chose to participate in this Auction.”

  The man Tink was referring to stood about 6 and a half feet tall with a decent build. He wore a pair of slim, woven pants, accompanied by a loose buttoned shirt and a smug look on his face. Wrinkles separated his brows from his hair, and his nose sat crooked above a thin pale lip.

  As if lured into a trap, Kage was unable to ignore Tink any longer. “You mentioned winnings in a separate tone. I’m obliged to guess there’s a separate meaning behind that?”

  “His name is Bolad. An avid partaker of the Highrise Auction,” Tink bolstered. “He does pretty well if the Windcutter doesn’t show.”

  As soon as the short-statured Tink mentioned that name, Kage turned to face him, his voice sharp. “What do you know about him?”

  A malicious grin slowly crept up onto Tink’s face, “So that’s what sparks your interest, hmm?”

  “If you have information about him, then I’ll give you my attention.”

  “What a strange person you are,” said Tink, curiously. “Unfortunately, information like that doesn’t come for free my friend.”

  Kage turned back to the arena, “And unfortunately for you, I don’t have a coin left to give.”

  “I never asked for your coin, stranger. I ask for your objective here. It’s quite obvious someone like you shouldn’t be here. You’re just lucky half of the idiots who joined are too stupid to see.”

  “My objective?” Kage thought for a moment, deciding his words carefully. “I need to have a word with the Windcutter. I’m sick and tired of hearing that name without a face to match.”

  Tink’s brows perked up, probing Kage, “Is that truly your one and only objective? I have a hunch that tells me otherwise.”

  “Then your hunch would be right. However, that is all that I am willing to say.”

  “For now,” Tink finished his sentence for him. “A time will come where all will unfold.”

  Kage gave Tink a melancholy look, studying him. “Your turn. What do you know?”

  “Do you know where the name came from?” Tink changed the subject before it could continue. “It’s all in the blade. The blade the Windcutter holds is shrouded in mystery. It cuts deep. Quick, before the eye can even see it. And the best part—you can’t even tell when it’s coming for you.”

  “A blade you can’t see?” said Kage, unimpressed. “Sounds far-fetched. Have you seen this with your own eyes to confirm?”

  Tink smirked, malice hiding behind pupils. “Based on what you have shared with me, this would be the equivalent limit of what I can provide in exchange. Unless of course, you wish to share more about your objective here, since you and I both know there’s a bit more than meets the eye.”

  As Kage was about to respond, Phenix had returned with the victor by his side. A loud clap brought the attention back to him. He motioned Bolad—who hadn’t a single scratch or bruise on him—to join Tink, Hog, and Kage by the far side wall, an unsettling aura vibrating off of him.

  “And thus, 4 remain from the red ward,” Phenix shined a bright, toothy grin. “Our patrons were very pleased with your performance. As a reward, a clue will be given for your next challenge. All four of you will enter the arena together, but only 1 will proceed to the final stage. Now, now, I wonder, who will it be?”