XXV
Security escorted me and Vaude up the stairs like royalty. Two burly men in tuxedos and sunglasses oozed hired muscle. Their biceps flexed as they pulled on the brass handles of double doors at least nine feet tall, taut arms straining the fabric with each movement.
The moment they escorted me through the frosted glass doors and shut them behind us, the noise of the casino dimmed, swallowed by a deeper, heavier rumble of people. The hallway curved downward, lit by red neon strips that pulsed like veins. Mr. Vaude walked ahead with a jaunty swagger; the two attendants flanked me silent as tombstones as I was escorted into a pit of specters and monsters.
The corridor opened into a round chamber; an arena carved from black stone and glowing sigils. The air was thick with the metallic tang of soul‑energy, and the hum of anticipation vibrated through the floor.
The room was shaped like a coliseum, circular and steep, with tiered seating rising into the shadows. Spectators filled the stands. I noticed that some were translucent, some nearly solid, all leaning forward with hungry fascination. Their whispers drifted like cold wind.
In the center stood a caged ring, bars forged from the same alien metal as Vaude's pocket watch chain. Blue light pulsed through the metal like trapped lightning.
Inside the ring, on one side, stood Leonidas. His name in neon light on a screen above.
Leonidas, The Lion Man.
He was even more imposing up close. A towering figure of muscle and scar tissue, his humanoid body wrapped in faintly glowing chains. His lion's head was crowned with a mane of black fire, each strand flickering like smoke. His golden eyes burned with a warrior's fury and a prisoner's grief. He looked more imposing here in the arena than in the circus earlier, like he had something to prove.
Beside him crouched two animal spirits, to his right a spectral tiger with ribs of moonlight and to his left a wolf stitched from shadow. They snarled silently, their forms flickering with barely contained violence. Leonidas was obviously their tamer.
Leonidas didn't look at me.
He didn't look at anyone.
He stared at the opposite side of the cage.
A hulking man stood there. His form was imposingly massive, broad‑shouldered, wearing a gladiator's harness of cracked leather and tarnished bronze. His helmet was ancient, dented, hiding his face entirely. His hands were bare except for leather lashings wrapped around his knuckles and wrists. He radiated brute force. A soul forged for violence.
The crowd hissed and murmured.
"Gladiator."
"House challenger."
"Leonidas will tear him apart."
"No—look at the bindings. They've been soaked in something. He's been upgraded."
Around the arena, specters raised glowing blue coins. They tossed them into one of two floating bowls of light that drifted between the rows. The bowls swallowed the coins with soft chimes as bets were recorded. There was no mistaking who owned the coins as they were attached to the patron's souls.
"Two on Leonidas."
"Five on the gladiator."
"A whole five coins are you mad?" A patron yelled at the man next to him that had just emptied his pockets.
"He's worth it. Look at him." One patron pointed at Leonidas and his entourage.
The energy in the room thickened, charged by the wagers.
Mr. Vaude leaned close to me, voice warm and wicked.
"This is the High‑End Pit," he said. "Where debts are paid in blood and brilliance. Leonidas is our reigning champion. The gladiator is… well. A curiosity. He's won fifteen matches in a row and is competing for Leonidas' champion seat."
Leonidas flexed his claws, the chains rattling.
The gladiator cracked his knuckles, leather lashings creaking.
The bars of the cage glowed brighter
The crowd held its breath.
And I felt it—deep in my bones—that this wasn't just a fight.
It was a transaction.
A ritual.
A way to turn soul‑energy into spectacle.
The cage bars slammed shut, and the arena fell into a hush so deep it felt like the air itself was holding its breath. Leonidas stood tall, chains rattling softly as he rolled his massive shoulders. His lion's head lowered, golden eyes burning with a warrior's fury.
Across from him, the gladiator cracked his knuckles, leather lashings creaking. His helmet hid his face, but the way he planted his feet said everything. His muscles tensed for attack he was ready to break something.
The gladiator bellowed as he charged first. He moved like a battering ram, head and arms posed like a vice, slamming into Leonidas with enough force to shake the cage. The impact echoed through the arena, a thunderclap of muscle and metal as the gladiator steamrolled into his opponent. Leonidas staggered back a step, claws scraping sparks from the floor as he was tossed into the middle of the floor mat by the blow.
The crowd let out a blood curdling roar.
Leonidas answered with a swipe of his chained arm, the blow landing across the gladiator's chest with a sound like a snapped tree trunk. The gladiator stumbled, bronze armor denting under the force, but he didn't fall. He lunged again, grabbing Leonidas around the waist and driving him into the bars.
The cage shuddered.
Leonidas roared a deep, primal sound that rattled the bones of every specter in the stands. His spectral tiger and wolf circled the ring, snarling, waiting for an opening, a signal that Leonidas wanted his opponent to be erased.
The gladiator swung a heavy fist, catching Leonidas across the jaw. The lion‑man's head snapped to the side, mane flaring like black fire. He answered with a brutal knee to the gladiator's ribs, the blow lifting the man off his feet.
The crowd howled.
The gladiator hit the ground hard but rolled, coming up with surprising speed. He grabbed one of the chains wrapped around Leonidas's arm and yanked, pulling the lion‑man off balance. Leonidas stumbled forward, and the gladiator drove a shoulder into his gut, forcing him back.
For a moment, it looked like the gladiator might overpower him.
Then Leonidas planted his feet as he surged upward with a roar, ripping the chain free and swinging it in a wide arc. It struck the gladiator across the helmet with a ringing crack, sending him sprawling. The tiger leapt, spectral claws flashing, forcing the gladiator to shield his face.
The wolf lunged next, snapping at his legs, driving him backward.
Leonidas advanced, each step heavy with purpose. He could not lose his championship and the energy coin that came with it.
The gladiator rose again, staggering, breath ragged. He lifted his fists, ready for another round. Leonidas didn't give him the chance.
He slammed into the gladiator with the full weight of his massive frame, pinning him against the corner. The metal groaned. The gladiator struggled, but Leonidas's strength was overwhelming, force of nature, a king reclaiming his throne.
The lion‑man raised one chained fist.
The arena went silent.
Then he brought it down.
The impact shook the entire area.
The crowd erupted into a storm of cheers, howls, and the clatter of soul coins being exchanged.
Leonidas stepped back, chest heaving, mane flickering like embers. The gladiator slumped to the floor, defeated, unmoving but still intact.
The fight was over.
Leonidas had once again emerged triumphant.
Most of the crowd raised their arms in cheer. They had won their bets. Their souls were secure.
Leonidas looked to the edge of the ring and lifted his chin towards his trained animals, flicking his head, a signal that this being was no longer a contender for the throne, but food.
I witnessed the grotesquely cruel claws rend, and large teeth bite and gnash at the fallen warrior. The gladiator had no blood, but his spirit form slowly disappeared piece by piece into the gaping maws of the spectral wolf and tiger. Only the torso and helmeted head remained as Leonidas bent down, nails sharpening into fierce claws, burying it into the gladiator's chest cavity, and ripping away the glowing heart-shaped center of his soul. He held it to his own fanged face and in three large bites, consumed it. The rest of the body shattered into shards of nothing like a dying sparkler. Leonidas had recharged himself, and once again, stood as arena champion.