Book 4: Arcane [Thor]

Chapter 18

The young woman joined the illusion, picking out an armor to put on, and then grabbing two shock batons, and a short sword.

"So you are still alive, huh?"

Anya turned to see the three aliens from before. They chose some rather threatening addons to their uniforms. Like spikes and metal attachments. Two of them now wore helmets too.

"You should've just stayed dead in the holding cell," the blue one continued.

"This isn't a normal night," the pink one said.

"Round Robin," the green one stated. "Which means we fight everyone one at a time. Many of us compete to the death."

"And from those injuries of yours..." The blue alien sized her up. "I say you make it three rounds max."

"You're being generous. I give her two."

"Ha!" laughed the pink alien. "If those injuries of her doesn't slow her down first, she'll be done in one."

Anya didn't answer their jibes as they laughed amongst one another. The green one stepped up to shove the young woman. "What's the matter? Lost your voice?"

"Hey!" a guard on the outer edge of the shouted. "No fighting in the holding area. You know the rules, Yeilgra."

The green alien huffed, "Very well, father." Then her attention turned back to Anya. "Just you wait till we step into that arena. Then things are going to get fun."

Finally left alone, the agent moved to the far wall to grab a face mask. One that protected the sides and forehead. Then the human began to wander for a bit. Noticed a bar of sorts that stood on the other side of a transparent barrier. Could hear the noise of a crowd over the hum of the room.

"You're new," a voice spoke up.

Anya glanced over. The source of the voice came from an amphibian humanoid covered in orange scales with membranes between the fingers. She possessed rather large eyes, which were a different shade of orange, and wore a teal and black body armor with smooth edges. They didn't appear threatening, but looks could be deceiving. And if this was a Round Robin tournament like Yeilgra said then they would have to fight one another.

"How much do you know about what's going on here?"

"Only that I have to go into an arena and fight because the Grandmaster thought I'd be a good contender," Anya answered.

The amphibian tried to discretely take in her injuries already sustained, but the agent noticed.

"Nusal, Bainea, and Yeilgra's handy work I take it?"

"So you know it?"

"Very well. Those that manage to survive their welcoming ritual have watched it happen to those that are new. When they grow bored with you."

"Then this isn't a one-time thing," the agent sighed.

"Unfortunately, not for you. And because you're Midgardian, they may carry it out a little longer just to see how far they can push you."

"Lovely..." Then the young woman wondered, "Is it that obvious that I'm from Migard?"

"It's not your appearance. Those on Xander, even Asgardians, can have looks such as yours. But each race has a certain scent to them for those with the heightened sense."

"What do I smell like?"

"Very sweet."

Anya cocked a brow. "You're not a cannibal alien, are you?"