Crooked Hearts

Episode 3

ARTHUR

In a hidden, less traveled part of Lumia's Outer District, away from the prying eyes of authorities lies The Arena. I stand in the enclosed space under the bright lights as a crowd cheers. Fighting for entertainment and profit, to return to this life I once abandoned, not that I am complaining. "Bors! Bors! Bors!" Everyone chants, and a smirk escapes me; they have forgotten who the King of the arena was.

Bors slams a fist to his naked chest; he is muscular with a weathered face, a man who grew up in harsh conditions. Rough-looking, having scars from both arena and street fights, the life of the average Lumian in this city. His gaze intense as he looks at me, his hair is only stubbles like his facial hair, but still, he looks unkempt.

The bell dings, and he rushes forward slinging his punches; they are slow but heavy. I could feel its weight as I dodge and weave under them, smiling as I dance around the ring causing him to miss. And the crowd boos. He lunges forward with a knee; I step off to the side causing him to crash against the cage as I move to the other side of the ring.

Stopping by the corner, I take my stance and wave him in, challenging him into attacking me. The fight has gone long enough, and I have seen everything I needed to see; he is nothing but a simple brute. No plans or tactics, to think that the arena is reduced to champions who rely only on brute strength that is not backed by brain and skill. Though I wonder what happened to Junior, he should be able to handle someone like this...I expected him to reign as champion when I was gone. Did he get himself killed?

He lunges forward with a front kick, one I easily sidestep before I kick him behind the knee, causing him to drop into one knee. He rises up slinging a punch, I duck under slinging my own punch that catches him square on the jaw and he stumbles backward. The most satisfying feeling in a fight, catching someone as they attack.

I lunge forward; he slams a front kick but I drop to one knee, leaning over as I put my hand down on the ground and swing my other leg through in a spin with speed and momentum. Catching him as he is standing on one leg, sweeping him off his feet and his head crashes into the ground with a thud. The crowd lets out an audible gasp.

I jump towards the cage, leaping off it to drop an elbow on his face but decided otherwise and roll on my back instead, standing up to offer him a hand. His expression hardens into a frown, but it softens immediately after, and he takes my hand. Raising it in victory as he stands, inviting the crowd to congratulate me, and they cheer at his behest. The king of the Arena is back.

Taking the winnings from the booker, I make my way out of the place to see Nazeer standing at the exit. Better known as Crow. He has a black and white scarf wrapping around his head and face, revealing only his sharp dark brown eyes and menacing brow, standing proudly as he rests both hands on the walking cane flanked by two warriors. A cane with a crow head as a handgrip. "The return of the king."

"Running short of good fighters?" I smirk.

"I have good fighters; you're just a cut above." His tone serious, though I am sure he is smiling behind that scarf of his. "How about returning into the fold? I could use another muscle or two." He had always counted me among his lot, told me I was wasting my potential living with Evander, and he was right. Evander is like a father to me, but he is not what I need, not then and not now. Yet I have no wish to be caught up in Nazeer's business either. I am here for me, and I will carve my own destiny.

"I spent four years serving, decided I didn't like it."

"You served the wrong people." Nazeer turns his face away. "Were you expecting Soraya to be here?" Soraya, Nazeer's prized possession and spy, a woman of exotic beauty and grace, my former lover. But in truth, we ended it with words but our hearts cling to each other still. Of that, I am certain.