Infinity's End

Vendetta, Part 1

The world was red, the blood on his hands was fresh, and the cheers of the crowd were exhilarating. Drayden looked up through his ruby tinted gaze to see his opponent, torn apart and bleeding all over. All of the competition tonight was pitiful. Not a single fight had been entertaining, and yet his machete still itched for the kill. So with a quick leap forward, Drayden jumped back into the fight.

His opponent lifted his spear and blocked his initial strike, but it made him stumble backwards. Drayden slashed at his left hand and hit it clean, causing the spear to drop to the ground. With a roundhouse kick to the gut, the man joined his weapon in the dirt. The crowd went wild.

"What a relentless assault by Drayden the Demon!" The announcer yelled out. "No one has been able to touch him tonight!" Drayden loomed over his pitiful prey. His victory was assured, but there was still one more thing to do.

"What's it gonna be everyone?" Drayden yelled to the audience, situated high above the arena where he stood. "Mercy, or murder?"

"Kill him! Kill him!" The crowd cheered. It seemed like they always wanted murder when he entered the arena. Not that he disagreed, of course. Turning back to his opponent, Drayden finished the job. A quick slash across the entire torso and his opponent was sent down to the dirt for the last time.

"There we have it folks! The Demon wins his fourth match of the night! What a show!" The crowd was deafening now. They wanted blood, and boy was he was giving it to them. Four straight matches and no one had even scratched him. Even his signature black and white trenchcoat remained flawless, somehow avoiding all the carnage of battle. It looked like the end to another flawless, effortless night.

"All right everyone!" The announcer began, the excitement in his voice finally toning down. "We're going to take a short intermission so our fighters can regain their strength. The score now stands at 22-21 in favor of the Kratos Clan. Will the Magnus Clan be able to take back the lead? Will Magnus be the first Clan to end Kratos’ incredible winning streak? Whatever happens, this will surely be a Vendetta for the ages!"

Drayden left his dead opponent for the medics to take away. Behind him, the exit to the arena had opened up: a sterile grey corridor that lead back to the barracks. Shouldering his machete, for he had no sheathe, he sauntered over with no real excitement or sense of pride. These fools were way out of their league, despite what the score said. Honestly, all he wanted was for this pitiful match to end so he could go home and down a few drinks. After all, what was the point in winning match after match if they didn't satisfy him? Wasn't that the whole reason he became leader of the Kratos Clan? To fight the toughest, cruelest, most intense battles around? Vendetta might be the most unforgiving sport in existence, but once you became a living legend, a true fight rarely presents its self to you.

An automatic door sealed off the arena as soon as Drayden stepped foot in the corridor. The noise of the crowd immediately ceased, leaving a dead and unnatural silence in the air. Had he died, the group of paramedics standing to the side of him would have been set to take him to the hospital immediately. But seeing as this was his hallway, a corps passing through would signify a complete defeat. That simply didn't happen. And thus, the medics for the Kratos Clan stood by in silence as Drayden walked down the hallway alone.

“Please select destination,” a robotic voice stated when he reached the end of the hall. A holographic menu appeared in front of him, displaying the list of rooms back in the barracks. Drayden clicked the lounge button, and the menu closed. Streaks of light started to shoot up from the ground until it engulfed him completely. When it faded, he was standing in the back of the Kratos Clan Lounge and Bar.

The lounge was a huge open glass dome that overlooked the arena. The entire place was filled to the brim with animal skin carpet, leather couches, plasma screen TVs, and most importantly, beer. Fighters with their weapons still strapped to their backs milled around, laughing and drinking like it was the end of the world.