‘Because I have a newfound trust in him. And I know he will win. I just know it…’ Ashley Moore’s words echoed in Drake’s head and he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a possibility that Eren and him would fight in the nearest future. Not just any fight, but a public one like the tournaments. And in a ring too. Was that what he really wanted? Drake was not absolutely certain. He was sure he could beat the Trost boy with relative ease if they were pitted against each other. Daniel was, after all, weaker stock. It mattered little that Eren had torn through him. Drake was a prodigy, if he had to say so himself. He chuckled at Ashley's face. The conversation had continued longer than he would have allowed it if the circumstances were different. "But you aren't a gambling woman, Ashley, now, are you? You would be making a losing bet. But then again, who am I to tell you what to do?" She sauntered away, her movement like those of a jungle cat. Watching he

The crowded locker room had slowly and surely become nearly empty. Only a few people remained. In the fourth stage of the contests, a lot of contestants had lost their fights, forcing them to drop out. When a person lost, their journey ended there. Drake clenched and unclenched his fist. Despite his advanced healing, he was starting to hurt all over. He was sure the same applied to the rest of his peers that remained. A boy with heavy tattoos was slumped in the corner, panting. Even Gaine was crouched in a corner, the white of his eyes flecked with red. His fight, like Drake's, had taken a toll on him. The Trost boy sat in a corner, deadly silent. The fifth stage was to begin in a few minutes and they waited for the announcements, the screen above blinking with light. The screen came back to life suddenly and the first names were drawn up - Drake Khan versus Samantha Dennin. Loud cheering could be heard from the stands. The locker room buzzed with life again. Dr

Trevor Denning was one for pleasantries, it turned out. He was waiting in the arena by the time they announced Tiana's name and she stepped out and into the light. Day was turning quickly into twilight and the sun guttered slowly from the sky. Tiana took up her position opposite her would-be opponent. He raked a hand through his hair, his motions very feminine. "Hey there." He said. Tiana nodded at him, taking a fighting stance. "So, are you ready to bring some serious heat to this arena or what?" He asked, smirking. He was making fire jokes now? Tiana sighed inwardly. The announcer was yet to signal that the match had begun in earnest, so she was forced to indulge him. "Perhaps, we should both focus on getting out of here alive?" She suggested. He shrugged. "Baby, I only get to pummel my classmates to nothing once. I intend to enjoy it. Don't you?" Tiana huffed. Everything was a joke to Trevor. Everything. He was the exact opposite of his sister. Where she was wi

By the time Eren got to him, Sid was a bloody mess. He reached the doors just as they heaved his new friend's body into the room. Eren reached out, slipping a strong arm beneath Sid's underarm and held him up out of instinct. He let Sid rest all of his weight against him. Unlike what he expected from Sid's lithe frame, the young man was heavy. "I am a fucking mess, friend." He grinned at Eren. Eren led him back towards the locker room, albeit clumsily, their motions awkward. "That has to be the understatement of the year." "I will get blood all over you." Sid was delirious with the blood loss. Eren tried to shrug which ended up being a strange twitch of his shoulder, seeing as he was basically carrying Sid. "There are worse things than that, I guess." He said, to which Sid grinned tiredly. "Eren Trost, the epitome of positivity." said Sid, causing Eren to chuckle despite the grim situation. He helped his friend to a low chair next to Tiana. Sid gasped with pain as he

"To those who shall spill blood in our honor today, and those whose blood shall be spilled, we salute you." The announcer had said at the start of the contests. Gaine Winchester was in the locker room savoring a mouthful of river grapes when he heard the statement, and he had nearly spat his grapes with mirth. It was not that Gaine did not think this statement to be in praise of himself and his peers. It was how it sounded coming for one who had never been involved in the act of the spilling, literal or otherwise. The man had made it seem almost comedic, almost literature worthy, these acts of sheer violence that were soon to follow his speech. "Violence is always, always, a misdeed, my son. But sometimes, it is a necessity," Gaine's father had told him when he was younger, long before he felt the first quickening of MANNA inside him. "Sometimes," The man said, his voice calm and persuading, "it is the only way by which to show strength." If the Winchester clan had a motto,