Chapter 3 ~ The Red Sand

{Ragna’s POV}

The Blood Gate opened with a long, dragging groan that sounded less like machinery and more like something being forced into agreement.

Which felt appropriate, considering what it was about to witness.

Light spilled into the tunnel first, sharp and the noise followed a heartbeat later, thick and layered in a way that didn’t bother separating itself into individual voices. It came all at once, pressing into the stone, filling the space, settling somewhere deep in my chest like it had been waiting for me specifically.

I had heard what the Arena sounded like before, but standing here was… different.

“Move.”

The Iron Warden didn’t shove me. She juist tapped my shoulder with enough impatience to make it clear that hesitation was not tolerated, so I stepped forward before she could upgrade the suggestion into something less polite.

And then I was through…

The first thing I noticed when my feet touched the ground was the sand— red, darker up close, less like decoration and more like a long-term bloody commitment. From the stands, it had always looked contained, like something that could be swept up and replaced after each fight.

Down here, it didn’t feel replaceable.

It felt… used.

The Arena rose around me in layers of stone packed with people leaning forward in their seats, every single one of them wild and expectant, like they had all collectively agreed that whatever happened next was worth every animalistic behavior they showcased.

Understandable.

Banners snapped in the wind above them, vendors shouted somewhere in the chaos, and I couldn’t help noticing how easily food and violence coexisted in the same space.

Honestly, efficient. Eat, cheer, watch someone lose a tooth. Full experience.

Different sections of the crowd had already started chanting, the sound rising and falling in uneven waves.

Blood.

Fight.

More…

Growing up, I had watched this from above, tucked safely into the stands where everything looked smaller, simpler, easier to process. Two fighters entered, one left standing, for which the crowd reacted accordingly.

Clean.

Or at least it had looked that way.

Standing here now, with roars pressing in and the sand shifting under my weight, it was obvious that “clean” had been a very generous interpretation.

Still… I couldn’t stop the quiet thrill that moved through me.

This was it.

Not the version where I watched, but the version where I did something about it.

**

I flexed my fingers slowly, feeling the shift as my claws slid free, and then I glanced across the Arena when the second Blood Gate opened.

My opponent stepped onto the sand and I was impressed. 

She was built like she trusted force more than anything else— broad shoulders, solid stance, the kind of girl who probably solved most of her problems by turning them into smaller, broken problems. 

I ran my gaze over her once more and then I turned away as the Arena was still a lot more interesting.

It just felt surreal that I was down here, not watching but actually participating. Not reacting but acting. The Arena bore no illusion, and I was busy noting all these intensities when something slammed into me furiously like a wreck train.

My feet left the ground and I could have sworn my neck cracked but then I wasn’t given the time to swear. 

The wreck train was my opponent and apparently, she didn’t find the Arena as intriguing as I did. 

The impact had come without warning, her shoulder slamming into my chest hard enough to knock the air clean out of me… after which the ground rushed up to meet us. 

For a second, all I had was pressure and sand and the very inconvenient realization that I had just ignored the person whose entire purpose was to break me.

We were here to fight. 

That felt like something I should have prioritized slightly earlier. I didn’t even hear the Arena Master’s voice saying we should begin.

I twisted instinctively now as her claws came for my face, feeling the rush of air as they missed my throat by a narrow margin. Wow. 

I rolled away before she could correct that mistake. My lungs dragged in a sharp breath as I pushed myself up now, the world snapping back into focus just in time to see her already moving.

The crowd roared. Entertained fuckers. 

The bulky girl shifted as she circled me now, jaw lengthening, fangs sliding into place. Her movements were quick and restless, like she had already decided how this was going to end.

“You look weak!” she scowled. 

I raised a brow. “You looked fatter on your left side.”

That pissed her off as she growled. 

“I’m not dying here!” She bawled and I shrugged.

“Reasonable goal.”

“I’m going to beat the life out of you until whichever whore that gave birth throws herself from the crowd and kills herself.” She growled roughly now. 

Meanwhile, what she had said was a frequently occurring event… but she didn’t have to drag my mother into this.

No one has that liberty. 

So now, something shifted in me and my focus sharpened.

The Arena didn’t disappear, but it stopped mattering in the same way. The noise pulled back, and suddenly there was only her, the sand, and the very clear understanding that this had become personal.

“I’ll break your nose.” I said and then she lunged. 

This time, I met her head-on.

The collision was heavier now, our bodies locking as claws tore and struck without hesitation. Her nails ripped across my shoulder, heat flaring as skin gave way. I drove my knee into her ribs in return, feeling the shift in her balance.

She answered with her head.

Pain burst across my face.

Fuck, but closeness worked. 

Less thinking. More hitting. A system I could work with.

With the proximity, I drove my elbow into her throat and felt her stagger, just enough to give me the opening I needed. My hand caught in her hair, and I forced her down into the sand at once. 

I slammed and dragged her on the sand, the shift in control sharp and immediate as the crowd reacted, louder now, feeding off the change.

For a moment, it tilted in my favor.

Then it didn’t.

She recovered quickly, twisting as her fist came up faster than I could have expected, slamming into my jaw and snapping my head back just enough to blur my vision. 

She didn’t hesitate after that. 

Her fist drove into my ribs and something in my side protested in a way I knew I wasn’t going to enjoy later. Before I could recover, her knee came up hard and brutally bashed my face, nose; everything. 

The world tilted and blood poured out of my nostrils. 

I hit the ground hard, the impact rattling through me as the sky stretched wide above it all, calm and completely uninterested, which felt mildly insulting considering how involved I had been.

The crowd surged immediately.

Of course.

“ONE!”

The countdown system had begun. 

I pushed against the sand, my arms responding just enough to make it feel possible.

“TWO!”

Breathing became an issue as my nose focused on slipping out blood rather than sucking in air. 

“THREE!”

I got one knee under me, the world tilting in response like it wasn’t entirely convinced I should be upright.

“FOUR!”

I tried to rise at that but then my body disagreed. Strongly.

I hit the ground again, and this time the effort didn’t translate into anything useful. The count continued, the noise rising with it, and somewhere nearby I was aware of her standing there, watching, waiting for confirmation with her nose intact. I hadn’t broken it. 

Instead, she had shifted mine and it felt really childish how mad I was at that.

In the end, I didn’t get up. I couldn’t as the side of my ribs protested until the count got to the final TEN. 

The roar that followed was immediate, approval sweeping through the Arena like a reward I hadn’t earned, and before I could properly process the loss, hands were on me again.

Iron Wardens.

They hauled me up and dragged me back towards the Blood Gate.

I didn’t know what came next but I was sure I wouldn’t like it…

… because losing in a place like this would most definitely disadvantages.