Page 73 of Orange Tundra
Through my crystal-clouded vision, I catalogued the spectators taking their seats. Not just Kilo's usual crowd of degenerates and thrill-seekers. These were representatives of rival gang leaders, territorial alphas, traders who dealt in the kind of currencies that made respectable society vomit. I recognized the markings of at least six different criminal organizations, some of whom had been at war with each other for decades.
Yet here they sat, unified by their hunger for whatever entertainment Kilo had promised them.
My beast snarled within its crystalline prison, instincts screaming warnings I couldn't fully interpret. But one message came through clearly:Pack. Pack nearby.
Roqs. Nim and Sim. They must be here, somewhere in this mountain of horrors. I could feel their presence like heat against my skin, that supernatural awareness that came with deep bonds forged over years of fighting side by side.
But if they were here...
Coone better has Brin somewhere safe. She should not be in this godforsaken place.
I growled not caring if Nialla would hear me.
A commotion from the adjacent cell drew my attention. Guards were dragging in a new prisoner, a foreigner something that had once been a native from our galaxy, but was now barely recognizable as sentient. Feral, foam-flecked, eyes rolled back to show only whites. A thick collar around its neck pulsed with electrical current, the only thing keeping it from attacking everything in sight.
"Fresh meat from Augrq," one guard commented casually. "Kilo's been saving this one for a special occasion."
Augrq. The industrial hellscape where environmental disasters had driven entire populations into chemical-induced madness. Whatever this creature had been before the toxic exposure, it was now pure instinct wrapped in mutated flesh.
And if the pattern held, he would be my first opponent.
"Move out, Silver!" Another guard appeared at my cell, shock baton crackling with energy. "Time to earn your keep."
They led me through corridors carved from black volcanic stone, past holding areas where other fighters waited their turn. Some paced with nervous energy. Others sat in meditation or prayer. A few, the repeat offenders who'd survived multiple bouts, simply stared at nothing with the empty gaze of those who'd seen too much death.
The arena's roar grew deafening as we climbed toward ground level. Not just cheering, but something more brutal and uncivilized.
"BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD!"
The chant echoed off stone walls with religious fervor, hundreds of voices unified in their hunger for violence. My Silver Beast stirred despite the crystal spreading through my nervous system, responding to the challenge in their voices.
Let me out,it demanded.Let us show them what real predators look like.
But the Shura held firm, keeping my beast trapped beneath a shell of living stone that grew stronger with each passing hour. I was fighting this battle as a crippled man, not the legendary Silver Beast that had made enemies flee in terror.
The tunnel opened into blazing arena light that stabbed through my crystal-clouded vision like daggers. I squinted, cataloguing the battlefield through tears and drug-induced halos.
Circular pit carved from obsidian stone, sixty meters across, walls slick enough to prevent climbing. No weapons racks. This was meant to be about natural ability, not tool use. Sand covered the arena floor, though dark stains suggested it had absorbed more blood than could ever be cleaned away.
But it was the crowd that made my stomach clench with revulsion.
They weren't just watching. They were participating. Men and women from a dozen criminal organizations, their faces twisted with anticipation that was clearly sexual in nature. Some openly fucked as they waited for the violence to begin. Others exchanged currency and contracts, betting slips that detailed exactly what they hoped to see.
And in the royal box, elevated above the carnage like obscene gods, Kilo and Nialla reclined on cushions that looked suspiciously like flayed hide.
"Welcome, honored guests!" Kilo's voice boomed across the arena, magically amplified. "Tonight, we offer entertainment beyond your wildest fantasies!"
The crowd's roar doubled in intensity. I stood in the arena's center, chains still binding my functional arm, and felt their bloodlust wash over me like a physical force.
"Our last fight features the legendary Silver Beast," Kilo continued, gesturing toward me with theatrical flourish, "against a feral champion from the toxic wastelands of Augrq!"
The opposite tunnel vomited forth the creature I'd seen in the holding cells. In arena lighting, its mutations were even more horrifying—patches of fur replaced by scales, limbs extended and joints reversed, eyes that reflected light like a nocturnal predator's. The collar around its neck sparked continuously, keeping it barely under control.
But it was Kilo's next words that made my blood freeze.
"As always, victory requires more than simple defeat!" His voice carried clearly over the crowd's excitement. "Our champion must either kill his opponent... or demonstrate complete dominance through public claiming!"
The implications hit me like a physical blow. The dark stains on the arena sand. The crowd's sexual excitement. The betting slips that detailed specific acts rather than just winners and losers.
