For two months, the pit was their world. Every week, Arya and the twins were thrown into the arena, forced to fight against hardened criminals, desperate warriors, and ambitious killers looking to carve their name into legend. They were the spectacle, the highlight of the blood-soaked show that Yatnish carefully orchestrated. Unlike Upendra, Yatnish knew how to keep the audience craving more—by making them wait. Arya and the twins weren't just prisoners; they were the event, a rare sight that brought in heavy wagers and roaring crowds.
Arya fought with ruthless efficiency, his movements sharper, deadlier with each battle. He didn't care who stood before him. His only goal was victory. Those who cowered or surrendered were spared, but anyone who raised a blade against him faced no mercy. His reputation grew, not just among the audience but within the pit itself. Fighters whispered his name in the dark corners of the prison. Some admired him. Others feared him. A few hated him enough to try to take his life, but none had succeeded. In the dim torchlight of their cells, the twins and Arya dealt with assassins in the dead of night. Sometimes, it was their own hands that delivered death. Other times, Ganak's men caught the would-be killers first, ensuring they never got another chance.
While Arya focused on survival, the twins expanded their network. They whispered in the cells, made allies, gathered information. They weren't just fighting anymore; they were building. In the chaos of the pit, they found order. Slowly, quietly, over fifty men began to follow them, drawn to Arya's growing legend and the twins' cunning. Within the walls of their prison, Arya was learning more about ruling than he ever had in a throne room. Leadership wasn't about commands or crowns—it was about trust, fear, and the balance between them.
Month three. Week one. Ten men had fallen beneath Arya and the twins today. Their reputation was undeniable. Even those who had once scorned them now watched with wary respect. The twins saw it clearly—Arya was no longer just someone to admire. He was someone to follow. The way he moved, the way he fought, the way he stood amidst the fallen—he was becoming something more. Not just a warrior. A leader.
That night, long after the cheering crowds had gone silent and the pit was once again swallowed by darkness, Arya sat against the cold stone wall of his cell, eyes closed, breathing steady. Then—footsteps.
Soft, calculated. Coming closer.
Arya tensed, his senses sharpening. He had learned to recognize danger in the way a man walked. But this was different. There was no hesitation, no malice—only purpose.
A quiet voice broke the silence. "Master, are you asleep?"
Arya's eyes snapped open.
"Master, you must hurry. I don't have much time."
A figure stepped into the dim light of the torch nearby. Arya's brows furrowed as he recognised the voice.
"Why are you here?" Arya's voice was low but firm. "If Yatnish sees you, he'll have you killed."
Kalanemi remained unfazed. "If you stay here, you'll die a slow death, fight by fight. You must escape now. Fighting battles in the pit won't win you the war."
Arya hesitated. The twins were listening from the next cell, their eyes sharp, their minds already racing. Escape? Now?
Kalanemi pulled a small key from his robe and pressed it into Arya's hand. "Go. Before it's too late."
There was no more time to think. Arya turned, unlocked the twins' cell, and handed Kalanemi the keys. "Do what you can for the others."
The three moved swiftly, slipping into the shadowed corridors of the prison. But the night was not silent for long. A metal door creaked open somewhere. A breath of hesitation. Then—
Shouts. Chaos.
Other prisoners had seen them. Some whispered, some called out. And then the alarm was raised. Guards barked orders, boots pounded against the stone, and suddenly the whole prison was alive with frantic movement.
Arya and the twins ran, weaving through the labyrinth of cells, pushing past desperate hands reaching out, voices pleading, threats snarled. The news spread like wildfire.
Arya and the twins had escaped.
In the dark of the night, the hunt began.