Chapter 75 Blood and Sand

The handlers didn’t give them time to breathe. The serpent hadn’t cooled before another gate opened and a new monster stumbled into the arena.

Kai’s chest still burned from where the coils had crushed him. Patrona’s arms shook from swinging her blades until her fingers blistered. But they stood shoulder to shoulder anyway.

The crowd demanded blood, and Enzo was listening.

The next fight was a two-headed hound, black smoke curling from its jaws. It lunged low. Patrona met one head with steel, Kai took the other with his staff. They moved together without speaking, their strikes answering each other’s gaps. The beast snarled, bit deep into Kai’s arm, but he drove his knee into its skull and twisted free. Patrona’s blade caught the second throat, and the sand turned dark.

The crowd roared approval.

There was no time. The handlers waved them on, dragging the carcass away as iron gates slammed open again.

A giant armored warrior came next. Human, but not free—collar heavy on his neck. His eyes were glassy. He swung a massive hammer, each strike rattling the floor. Kai blocked once, twice, but the weight was too much. Patrona darted behind him, her knives digging at weak points in the armor.

“Hold him!” she shouted.

Kai threw his staff up under the man’s chin, locking it against the collar. He heaved, muscles screaming, while Patrona cut the straps and cords, peeling the armor loose. The warrior staggered, left bare, and Patrona dropped her blade at the last moment—striking with the hilt instead of the edge.

The man fell unconscious, but alive.

The crowd booed. They wanted blood. Enzo’s handlers didn’t argue—they just dragged the body out like meat.

Another gate.

A scaled demon with claws like sickles.

Another.

A bull-headed brute wielding a spiked chain.

Another.

A harpy shrieking so loud the stands rattled.

Each time, Kai and Patrona fought as if it was the only fight. Each time, they were shoved into another before their lungs could fill. Blood soaked Kai’s arms. Patrona’s leg limped from a heavy blow she’d taken earlier. But they did not fall.

The sand floor was slick, a patchwork of blood—some theirs, most not.

Hours blurred. Daylight bent into dusk.

Patrona leaned against Kai between matches, chest heaving, sweat and dirt streaking her face. “How long do you think he’ll keep this up?”

“As long as it takes to break us,” Kai said. His voice was raw but steady.

“And?”

He turned, eyes cold. “We don’t break.”

The gate opened again.

A demon this time—massive, horned, muscles ridged with scars. It swung a blade big enough to split the wall. Patrona barely ducked the first swing, rolling through the sand. Kai took the second with his staff, the shock nearly tearing it from his hands.

The crowd screamed approval at the clash.

The demon laughed, deep and cruel. “You’re dead men walking.”

Kai’s knuckles bled on the grip of his weapon. “So are you.”

They fought as one—Patrona darting fast, knives flashing at weak points, Kai drawing the demon’s full attention with crushing blows. The thing swung again and again, but every time it missed by a hair, every time Patrona cut a little deeper.

Finally, Kai locked the staff against its blade and shoved, opening its chest for one strike. Patrona’s knife drove home.

The demon collapsed, shaking the ground.

The crowd erupted louder than ever.

Patrona bent over, hands on her knees, gulping air. “He’s making us kill everything he throws. This isn’t to test us—it’s to bleed us dry.”

Kai nodded once, blood running down his side. He lifted the staff again, refusing to lower it.

Across the arena, in the shaded stands, Enzo leaned forward in his cushioned chair. His rings glinted under the fading light. His smile never wavered.

Patrona followed Kai’s stare and spat into the sand. “He won’t give up Elijah’s girls. Not unless…”

“Not unless we keep winning,” Kai finished. His eyes never left Enzo.

Patrona tightened her grip on her blades. Her legs ached, her arms burned, but she stood taller beside him. “Then we’ll keep winning.”

The handlers opened another gate.

The night came on, and still the fights didn’t end.

Monsters. Demons. Warriors enslaved and collared. Each stronger than the last. Some too broken to fight back properly. Others feral, crazed with rage.

Kai and Patrona didn’t stop. They couldn’t. Every victory was another coin. Another step toward Elijah.

Sometimes Kai struck fast and brutal, snapping bone and crushing skull. Other times he held back, sparing a beastfolk fighter, leaving them for the healers to drag away.

Patrona saw it. She knew what he was doing, even if he didn’t remember why.

But the mercy slowed him down. Made the fights harder. Each choice cut deeper into his strength.

By midnight, Kai’s body was a map of wounds. Patrona’s left hand barely closed around her knife. They leaned into each other between strikes, keeping upright only because the other was still standing.

And still Enzo smiled.

When the gates opened again, silence fell.

The next beast was enormous—a four-armed demon, black hide gleaming under torchlight, chains dragging from its wrists. The crowd sucked in a breath, waiting.

Patrona swallowed hard. “This one’s meant to finish us.”

Kai didn’t answer. He just lifted his staff, knuckles white.

The fight lasted longer than all the others.

The demon’s chains smashed holes into the sand. One swipe threw Patrona into the wall, dazing her. Kai barely blocked the second, staff splintering under the weight.

He fought with the broken halves, striking again and again, holding the monster’s attention while Patrona pushed herself back to her feet. Blood ran down her face, but her knives still gleamed.

“Together,” she whispered.

They moved in unison. Kai caught one chain with his half-staff, twisting, dragging the beast low. Patrona vaulted over its back, driving both blades deep into the neck.

It bucked, thrashed, roared—then fell.

The arena shook with its death.

The crowd went wild.

Kai and Patrona stood in the silence after, panting, covered in blood that wasn’t all theirs.

Enzo rose slowly, clapping once, twice. The sound cut through the cheers like a knife.

Patrona clenched her jaw. She wanted to spit at him. To throw her blade. To end it now.

But Kai’s hand brushed her arm, stopping her.

Not yet.

The handlers dragged the body away. The arena floor was a ruin of sand and blood, black under the torches.

Kai leaned heavy on what was left of his staff. Patrona steadied him without a word.

They had survived. Not because Enzo allowed it. Not because the crowd demanded it. But because they refused to fall.

And tomorrow, if they were thrown into the pit again, they would stand once more.

Because every fight brought them closer to Elijah. Closer to his girls.

And closer to the moment when Enzo’s empire would come down—brick by gilded brick.