Clang.

  Clang–Clang.

  The sharp ring of metal on metal echoed through the Jaws of Hic’Evol. Amon’s short sword met the pirate’s saber in rapid succession, his blade striking like a hammer. He lunged, extending his sword while his dagger remained poised in his other hand, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The pirate countered with an upward swing, but he had underestimated Amon’s sheer strength. The force of the parry sent him stumbling back.

  Amon was stronger—much stronger—than his wiry opponent. His grip on both weapons was unshakable, an immovable wall that the pirate was beginning to realize he had to work around. But that didn’t erase the bastard’s malevolent grin. Strength wasn’t everything in a duel. Speed, skill, and precision were just as deadly and important.

  And the pirate was fast. A slippery snake, quick-footed and always ready to counterattack the moment Amon failed to break his guard. He glided to the right, swinging his curved blade low toward Amon’s exposed leg. But Amon’s dagger intercepted it, its serrated teeth locking the saber in place before it could slide free. The pirate clicked his tongue in annoyance and hopped away from the reach of the short sword.

  Still, the pirate relentlessly pressed on, feinting and probing for an opening. Yet Amon never stepped back. He held his ground, refusing to be baited, keeping just out of reach of the deadly pikes protruding from everywhere, their deadly points ready to pierce flesh at the slightest contact.

  The pirate wove around him, fluid and unpredictable. At one point, he dove low, aiming to slash at Amon’s ankle. But Amon saw it coming—his reflexes were too sharp, his stance too solid. He evaded the attack without so much as shifting his weight.

  They were evenly matched in agility, and Amon’s enhanced reactions ensured he could meet any blow. But the pirate’s saber moved like a living thing, twisting and slipping around his defenses with unnatural ease. Blade combat had never been the focus of his SFC training, and only his personal efforts had pushed him beyond the average Marine. Once again, his bloodline and biotech gave him the edge he needed.

  The HiRON5 brainchip hummed in his mind, analyzing his opponent’s movements, and feeding real-time combat data to his HUD.

  Still, they had fought for only minutes—each testing the other, searching for weaknesses. And Amon could tell: the pirate was good. Better than him, even–a seasoned killer who had fought for his life in this arena more times than he could guess.

  But that didn’t mean Amon would lose.

  It was time to shift the tide of the battle.

  When the pirate struck again, Amon made his move. Instead of parrying with his dagger, he twisted his short sword awkwardly, catching the blow at an angle. At the same instant, his other hand flicked forward—hurling his dagger straight at the pirate’s chest.

  The pirate’s eyes widened. He twisted at the last second, his body moving with unnatural speed. Nearly dodging it. Nearly. The blade grazed his ribs, drawing a thin line of blood.

  Amon didn’t let him recover.

  He pressed forward, redoubling the power behind his counterattack. The pirate, caught off guard, wasn’t fast enough this time. His saber faltered, too weakly positioned to deflect the attack. Amon’s sword bit deep into his shoulder, and a sharp cry echoed through the arena.

  Amon surged forward, seizing the pirate’s wrist and yanking him off balance. His leg shot out—crack—striking the pirate’s knee. It buckled with a sickening crunch, forcing a strangled gasp from his opponent’s throat.

  Before the pirate could collapse, Amon drove his sword into his neck, ending his life.

  A wet, gurgling sound escaped the dying man as his body spasmed. Then, lifeless, he crumpled to the ground.

  Amon wiped his bloodied blade on the corpse and retrieved his dagger. His breathing remained steady. Controlled.

  But the double doors didn’t give him time to regroup. They slid open, revealing his next opponent.

  A short, stocky man stepped forward into the Jaws.

  The pirate wielded two double-bladed axes, with a third strapped to his belt within easy reach. Unlike the last opponent, he didn’t charge in a frenzy. He strolled forward, casual, measured, and talkative.

  “You know,” he said, his thick accent dragging over the words, “the man you killed? His son was watching.” He nodded toward the ceiling.

  Amon didn’t respond. He let the words slide past him, focusing instead on the fight ahead. Distractions and muddled thoughts could get him killed.

  “When I capture you,” the pirate continued, his tone dripping with cruel amusement, “I promised to let the boy have some fun with your body. While you’re bound and helpless in a tiny dark room, remember what you did—and scream all you want. Boss Psy won’t mind if you lose a few limbs. They’re just meat.”

  He stopped just short of Amon’s striking range.

  Amon didn’t give him a chance to gloat further. He stepped forward, meeting the much shorter pirate in the narrow space between the pikes. He was consciously limiting himself, fighting in tight quarters where the overhead pikes barely reached his opponent’s height. Against a smaller man, that should have been a serious disadvantage.

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  The pirate’s first block was solid. The flat of his axe caught Amon’s thrust, stopping it cleanly. Another thrust—another block. Though somewhat unwieldy in close quarters, the double-bladed axes proved formidable at stopping his attacks.

  But the pirate’s patience cracked fast. So eager was he to subdue the Sergeant.

  With a bellow of frustration, he swung wildly, an axe cleaving through the air in a devastating arc. Amon sidestepped, using the environment to his advantage. A metal pike jutted between him and the incoming blade—CLANG. The axe smashed into the obstacle, sending vibrations through the arena.

  Amon smirked. The Jaws of Hic’Evol protected him from harm. He thrust again.

  His hit-and-run tactics were getting under the pirate’s skin. The brute relied on raw power, favoring sweeping, crushing swings. Amon refused to give him the space to land a clean hit. Instead, he maneuvered deeper into the maze of pikes, slipping through tight gaps where his short sword could still stab—but where the pirate’s bulky weapons became liabilities.

  His HiRON5 chip fed him a constant stream of proximity alerts, helping him move effortlessly through the hazardous terrain. The pirate, on the other hand, was struggling to navigate while under the short sword’s barrage.

  “Stay still, damn you!” the pirate roared, swinging again—only to be thwarted by another pike.

  His axes were too big for the confined space between the pikes. They were better suited to the open, clear spaces spread around the Jaws. Even with his smaller frame and quick footwork, his weapons kept snagging on the very arena he fought in. His frustration boiled over, but anger wouldn’t open a path to victory.

  The fight was dragging on, turning into a battle of attrition. Amon wasn’t interested in that. He had many more duels ahead of him. Pacing his strength was key. Finishing this duel quickly was what he was after.

  Behind him, the corpse of the last pirate lay motionless, its blood pooling on the cold metal floor.

  The optics’ infrared sensors recorded the heat evaporating from it, which would soon become just another obstacle in the arena.

  Amon had an interesting idea.

  —-

  The initial roar of the crowd still echoed through the floor, undiminished despite one man’s death—and the wailing boy who had finally gone quiet, slumped on a barstool. A sad thing, but inevitable. Jin Karf wasn’t sentimental.

  The boy was quickly surrounded by a cluster of adults, likely his late father’s peers. Not everyone here belonged to the gang that had dragged them into this bloodsport. Some were just locals—raiders, scavengers, people who had made Hic’Evol their home and now came for the entertainment. Jin couldn’t tell them apart at a glance, but the way they clustered into separate groups told him enough.

  He shifted his attention back to the floor screens at his feet. More specifically, to the fight unfolding below.

  The first duel had been too close for comfort. The pirate had been dangerous, and Sergeant Amon had only scraped through by a razor-thin margin. The man had skill, no doubt—but at some point, he would make a mistake. And when that happened?

  Jin had no one he trusted to send in Amon’s place. This was a losing game no matter how he played it over in his mind.

  He exhaled slowly, trying to clear his head. The smartest move was to find a way out. Sergeant Amon needed to stop after the next victory. That much was clear. They had freed one or two of the captives. He would take that as a small win.

  The second fight looked more manageable. Amon wasn’t taking risks, keeping the axe-wielding pirate from finding an opening. Around him, a handful of Marines watched the fight glued to the floor screens, murmuring nervously, in a mumbled chatter that tracked every bladed exchange. Gasps and yelps followed each close call.

  With this distraction Jin almost missed what happened next.

  Amon was backing up. The axe-wielding pirate chased him hot on his heels into an open space away from the pikes.

  Jin stiffened. What the hell is he doing? That’s giving the bastard an advantage!

  His fingers twitched thinking of his comms, ready to send a warning. But at the last second, he hesitated. A distraction now could do more harm than good.

  The axes, now unimpeded, swung in wide, brutal arcs. Amon was forced back, step by step. And then his heel brushed against the first pirate’s corpse.

  Jin sucked in a breath.

  Amon moved fast. With a small hop, he dodged back, just barely avoiding the edge of a swinging axe. Then–he dropped to one knee.

  Jin’s pulse spiked. Too low. Too slow. From that position, Amon wouldn’t be able to dodge in time.

  The pirate saw it too. He raised an axe high over his head, ready to bring it down with the force of an executioner’s blade.

  They want us alive. He can’t kill him. He won’t kill him.

  Jin’s mind scrambled for an answer, for an explanation that wasn’t what his eyes were telling him. He almost closed them as the axe fell.

  A sickening thud. A grunt followed closely after.

  Jin blinked.

  The pirate staggered, eyes wide in shock. Amon’s short sword was buried deep in his belly.

  At the last second, Amon had lifted the corpse at his feet—using it as a shield to absorb the axe’s blow. With his other hand, he had driven his sword into the pirate’s unprotected gut.

  Now, he stood. Pressing the blade deeper, pinning the pirate in place. The man trembled, his strength failing, his limbs sagging.

  Amon didn’t let him suffer.

  With a swift motion, he ripped the sword free. The pirate barely had time to collapse before Amon ended it. His blade flashed—clean, precise.

  The second pirate’s head hit the ground before the body.

  —-

  There was no time to savor the victory.

  Amon wiped his weapons clean as best he could, dragging the gored blade against the dead pirate’s pants. The handle was still damp with slick blood, but there was no helping that apart from rubbing it with the coarse fabric. It didn’t do wonders.

  Before he finished, his HUD flickered with an incoming message from Commander Jin.

  “Good job, Sergeant. Congratulations on your victory—and for freeing two of our men from these beasts. We’ll get the intel we need from them. As much as it pains me to say this, you are ordered to stand down. We’re retreating to the Dreadnought to reassess the situation.”

  Amon exhaled slowly. This message was not what he had in mind.

  He glanced up at the ceiling, where he assumed the Commander was watching, and gave a casual thumbs-up. He pretended to gather himself and, without further delay, sent his reply.

  “That’s a negative, Commander. I have a few more pirates to kill.”