The recycled air of the arena reeked of rust and sweat. With his next inhale, Amon tasted blood. He spat, but the coppery tang clung to his tongue. Blood was everywhere now.

  Eleven duels. Eleven bodies lay at his feet, some in more pieces than when they had entered the arena floor. A low grunt escaped his lips as he pressed his fingers to the gash along his ribs, feeling the torn fabric of his shirt.

  That last pirate. She had landed a sneaky blow before going down. Instead of defending, she had chosen to give her life to wound him. It appeared that the more he won, the more fanatically the pirates fought. It was as if, by his presence alone inside the Jaws, Amon insulted the pirates’ honor.

  It didn’t matter. The wound’s initial blood flow had stopped. His nanomites had formed a net to seal it from the inside. Only when he moved the sting of stretched skin under tension reminded him he was wounded.

  He wiped his forehead with a sleeve, smearing sweat and blood together, then rolled his shoulders to ease the mounting tension. His body was growing tired—not exhausted yet, but the weight of every victory was settling into his bones.

  He could make it to the last duel. He would make it. He prepared for his next opponent, ignoring the frantic texts from Commander Jin that sometimes offered encouragement and others a jumble of orders and curses.

  Amon reread the few messages Tommy, Ella, and Gardenia had sent him.

  Remember why you are doing this. It's for them, for all of them. He thought.

  —-

  Jin Karf observed the wounds Sergeant Amon wore like well-fitted clothes. The red streaks of angry skin had been inflicted by the deadly attacks of his opponents. Yet not one of them dripped with blood. Jin knew why.

  Yet. It had happened slowly. First, as an observer had shouted a name, and because it was so fitting, it was picked up by others too.

  Now, with every win, a chant was shouted by almost a hundred people watching.

  “The Bloodless!”

  “The Bloodless of Cerebrus.”

  It made Jin’s hair stand on end. A little awe entered his chest each time he heard the nickname picked up.

  When the 16th pirate fell to Amon’s dagger, the Slaver-gang surrounding the cyborg stared at the floor screens in silence. Around them, the rest of the crowd erupted—cheers and groans from gamblers, laughter, howls of excitement, and among the Marines? an electrifying tingle vibrating inside them all. Hope.

  Jin Karf could not deny it. It was touching even him despite the rambling messages he sent to the Sergeant at the end of each fight. He wanted to believe. Against all the odds, Amon was doing it; he was winning and sparing the lives of their comrades in the meantime.

  But within the Slaver’s circle, the atmosphere was different. Tense. Calculating.

  Jin could feel it. The energy in the room shifted, anticipation crackling through the air like static. Then the cyborg stepped forward onto the center of the floor.

  “It appears the fighter has some freeman spirit. The Jaws of Hic’Evol find his soul agreeable and stall their teeth from biting down.”

  “I have a proposal. No more meaningless fights. I will stack one of my best against him, no more meaningless fights. I bet everything on this, the remaining captives against an equal number. One fight, and the winner takes everything.”

  “Do you accept, officer?”

  The Commander’s jaw tightened. A risky offer– too risky. Betting on the lives of SFC Marines who did not participate in the fighting? What kind of man would do that? But before he could voice his denial, he received a message. From Sergeant Amon.

  I can make it happen, Commander, trust in me. One more fight and we will have what we came here for. For the Marines, for all of them.

  Jin Karf hesitated. It took him a few breaths to steady his mind, and even then it was hard to think clearly. The howling from the crowd didn't help to center him. He felt that it was too big a risk to take. Amon was certainly tired after so many duels even if he somewhat looked fine on the outside. He had already done more than enough, it was time to leave before the success of today turned into a disaster they could not recover from.

  But. On the other hand, he wanted to believe, the feeling of seeing one of them dominating the other party. The continuous wins, the roars, the cheering from the men and women surrounding him.

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  “Sergeant, do you believe you can win?”

  I wouldn’t say so otherwise. I’ll win for certain.

  He was torn between doing what was right as the Commander of this Company and what his heart desired for their people.

  “Promise me, you’ll do right by me and the men–Win this and be careful.”

  Yes, sir.

  —-

  The bet was sealed with a handshake, and the pirate’s champion rose to the task. She didn’t emerge from the crowd. Rather, the crowd parted to let her through. As she walked to the stairs leading to the lower floor, Jin’s sharp eyes tracked her every move. He searched for any clue—her strengths, her weaknesses—anything that might give Amon an edge in the duel.

  Amon was already at a disadvantage. She had watched his fights, studied his movements, and if she had spotted any weaknesses, she had the time to form strategies, to plan her actions. The more Jin thought about it logically, the worse he felt. What had he just agreed to? This was suicide. His heart pounded wildly in his ears.

  The pirate already held her weapons–twin daggers she spun effortlessly between her fingers as if they were mere toys. She played with them joyously, twisting the dangerous blades in eye-catching tricks. Her muscles rippled with energy at her slightest movement, veins bulging underneath a mural of tattoos that left no bare skin untouched.

  When she reached the stairs, Ti Ann turned to the waiting, watching crowd. She hissed, baring her teeth, and brought a dagger to her lips before hopping down the stairs onto the arena floor.

  —-

  It was thrilling. Exhilarating. The moments before a duel could bring a pulse back to a corpse. Ti Ann’s pulse? It was like a meteor shower tearing through a planet’s heavy atmosphere, burning her up from the inside. She took a sip from a small black vial, the liquid numbing her throat so intensely that her breath caught before she could inhale. She wiped her mouth with the back of her knuckles, suppressing a cough.

  The doors to the arena yawned open, and the Jaws grinned their steel teeth wide to welcome her back. She spread her arms as if to embrace them all, and met her opponent’s waiting eyes.

  He stood proud, tall, unbending despite his wounds. He stood where others had fallen, painting the floor red with their blood.

  “You,” she called out, grinning. “You are quite fun! Oh, only if Kiluan could have seen all this—” She stepped forward, and the doors slammed shut behind her, sealing them inside the arena.

  The Genome waited, his sword extended in front of him. She liked that he didn’t lose focus, even while she was still at a distance. Maybe his instincts told him she could hurt him even from afar. And he wouldn’t be wrong.

  She wanted to enjoy this. Another match at the sacred Jaws of Hic’Evol, after years of failing to find a worthy opponent. Newcomers were rare in Hic’Evol, and those who made it to the moon city were never careless enough to stand where he stood now. As for the old dogs, they never challenged her anymore.

  “Kiluan, are you watching? You’ll like it this time, I promise,” she said, looking up.

  She ran.

  They met.

  Like dancers on a stage, or moths drawn to the same flame. They clashed.

  She smiled, she laughed, she tasted blood—his. Her daggers painted arcs in the air, crimson streaks left in the wake of every twist and turn of her blades. She evaded his attacks, fluid and precise, with her own hits finding flesh in glancing blows.

  At a certain level of skill, every attack, every movement became so lethal that a duel could end in a fraction of a second. Seldom did these kinds of fights last long, not much after the initial contact had been made.

  Yet here they were, clash after clash, wound after wound, they held each other at bay. The man was good, talented, and he had help. Ti Ann recognized the sensory enhancements that boosted his perception. She had something similar in her as well. Between the deadly blades, the parries, and the attacks, she saw the flashes of alerts on his Optics that mirrored her own.

  If he hadn’t already been tired, he might have stood a chance.

  —-

  “Shit,” Amon cursed under his breath. The cuts weren’t bleeding much, but even the nanomites struggled to seal so many at once.

  The pirates’ daggers were a blur, gliding along his attacks, slipping by his defenses, and finding flesh whenever he was just a fraction too slow to react. He was burning through his SensoChronometry like an addict. A spike of pain in his cerebellum told him his brainchip was approaching dangerous overheating levels–confirming the alerts he had chosen to ignore flashing over his HUD.

  I need something big. Something she can’t avoid.

  With a flick of the wrist, he threw his dagger, and the pirate curved out of the way without missing a beat.

  “I’ve seen that one,” she taunted, exhilarated. “Show me more! Show me what you can do, Bloodless. Or should I call you bloody now that I carved you up nicely?”

  Amon didn’t hesitate. He jumped back, putting as much distance between them as possible, then rolled to the left, narrowly evading the counterattack coming his way and barely missing the piercing tip of a pike that jutted out of the floor.

  With his free hand, he picked up a weapon that was lying forgotten and cold on the floor, discarded and unneeded by its now dead owner.

  The double-bladed axe felt awkward in his grip. Yet he brought it up and used it as a shield, barring the way to the daggers. Then, in quick aggressive hops of footwork, he switched his dominant weapon from sword to axe, then back to sword again.

  He lured her out of the pikes and into an open, clear space. For his effort, he received a new burning slice on his lower arm that stung from separated muscle.

  Now it was time for a gamble.

  He extended the sword, barring the way to his left. The axe arched in a swiping motion, he twisted his torso giving it momentum, and leaving his side unprotected. The pirate ducked, letting the axe pass above her head, and with an elegant fluid motion stabbed.

  Amon twisted, letting the momentum guide him. He felt the dagger find purchase between his ribs. A blinding pain that should have stopped him cold got dampened by the HiRON5’s pain suppression. He threw all his weight into his hips and legs.

  Turn. He commanded between clenched teeth.

  The sword came around at blinding speed. The pirate was too close to evade the hit. Yet she somehow managed to deflect the sword’s blow. Then the axe came through. A bulky, heavy, unforgiving weapon made to devastate everything in its path.

  For the briefest of moments, their eyes met.