The air in the white-stone square of the Lower Realm Lord Bazaar grew ice-cold.
The two armored guards stood tall, their silver breastplates shining brightly in the warm sunlight. With a loud, sharp metallic ring, they pulled their heavy steel swords from their scabbards. The cold blades gleamed with a dangerous edge.
Surrounding them, the crowd of merchants, elves, dwarves, and novice lords gasped and quickly stepped backward, clearing a wide circle around Arthur and Marcus.
"Look at that kid," whispered a four-armed blue-skinned merchant, shaking his head. "Taking on Lord Marcus of the Crimson Empire with just nine copper coins and a dented dagger. He won’t last three seconds."
"It’s a shame," muttered a bearded dwarf leaning against a weapons stall. "The noble lords think they own every stone in the infinite universes."
Old Barnaby stepped out from behind his wooden table, his round copper spectacles sliding down his nose. He waved his hands frantically, trying to stop the fight.
"Now hold on! Hold on just a minute, young Lord Marcus!" Barnaby shouted, his voice cracking with worry. "This is a neutral trading bazaar! The rules of the Lower Realms say no bloodshed inside the market square! If you start a fight here, the Bazaar Enforcers will—"
"Quiet, old man!" Marcus snapped, cutting Barnaby off with a wave of his crimson silk sleeve. He glared at Arthur with a cruel, mocking smile. "Rules are for commoners and stray dogs. In my world, anyone who dares talk back to a noble gets put in their place."
Marcus pointed a finger straight at Arthur’s chest. "Guards! Cut him down! Just a flesh wound to teach him some manners!"
The first guard didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, lifting his heavy steel sword high above his head, and brought it down in a powerful vertical slash aimed right at Arthur’s shoulder.
Whoosh!
The blade cut through the air with a terrifying whistle.
Arthur’s heart pounded hard against his ribs, but his mind stayed cool and focused. He was not overpowered. He had no magical spells, no secret armor, and no giant army to save him. He only had his own two feet, his quick reflexes, and his dented metal dagger.
Instead of trying to block the heavy sword—which would have smashed his small dagger into pieces—Arthur threw his body hard to the left, hitting the smooth white cobblestones and rolling quickly out of the way.
CRACK!
The guard’s sword slammed into the stone floor right where Arthur had been standing a second before, chipping the white marble and sending a shower of sharp stone sparks flying into the air.
"Missed!" Marcus shouted, his face turning red with frustration. "What are you doing?! Hit him!"
The second guard lunged forward instantly, thrusting his sword straight toward Arthur’s stomach like a spear.
Arthur scrambled up from the ground, twisting his body to the side just as the cold tip of the blade grazed past his patched shirt, tearing the fabric and drawing a thin line of red blood.
"Ah!" Arthur hissed, biting his lip against the sharp pain.
He didn’t run away. He knew that if he ran, the guards would chase him down in seconds. He had to use their heavy armor against them.
As the second guard pulled his sword back for another strike, Arthur rushed forward instead of backward. He closed the distance between them in a flash, sliding low across the smooth stone floor right between the guard’s legs.
Clang!
Arthur kicked his foot out hard, striking the back of the guard’s knee joint.
The heavy armor made the guard unbalanced. With a loud grunt, the guard’s leg buckled, and he stumbled forward, crashing heavily into old Barnaby’s wooden display table.
Crash!
Bronze gears, iron nails, glass powder bottles, and wooden tools flew everywhere, clattering across the white stones in a chaotic mess.
"My inventory!" old Barnaby cried out, holding his head in despair.
Marcus stamped his foot in absolute rage. "Useless idiots! Both of you! Kill him now!"
The first guard turned around, his face dark with anger at being tricked by an unarmed boy. He raised his heavy steel sword again, preparing for a sweeping horizontal slash that would cut Arthur in half.
Arthur crouched low, his boots gripping the stone. He gripped his dented metal dagger tightly in his right hand. He knew this was the most dangerous moment. One wrong move, and the heavy sword would crush him.
Just as the guard swung his blade sideways in a wide, vicious arc, Arthur didn’t dodge away. He dropped flat onto his stomach, letting the razor-sharp sword whistle right through the air a mere inch above his hair.
Before the guard could recover his balance, Arthur sprang up like a coiled spring. He lunged forward inside the guard’s defensive circle, grabbed the guard’s wrist with his left hand, and pressed the tip of his dented dagger right against the soft spot under the guard’s chin.
The guard froze completely. His eyes widened in shock as he stared down at the young boy. The cold steel point of the dagger pressed against his skin, ready to pierce through if he moved even a millimeter.
The entire marketplace went dead silent. You could hear a pin drop on the white marble.
Marcus’s mouth dropped open. He stared in absolute disbelief. "You... you disarmed a noble guard?"
Arthur breathed heavily, his chest moving up and down. Sweat dripped down his forehead, stinging his eyes. He looked up from the guard to Marcus, his voice steady and cold.
"Your guards are heavy and slow," Arthur said quietly. "In the void, armor doesn’t save you if you don’t watch your feet."
"Let him go, you little rat!" Marcus screamed, his face turning purple with humiliation. He reached inside his crimson silk jacket and pulled out a small, glowing red crystal shaped like a spiked star. "If you don’t let him go right now, I’ll turn this entire square into ash!"
This was the inciting incident of the crisis.
The moment Marcus pulled out the glowing red crystal, the air in the white-stone square began to vibrate with a strange, high-pitched hum.
Old Barnaby’s face drained of all color. He gasped, stepping back in absolute terror. "No! That’s a Bazaar Rule-Breaker Crystal! If that thing shatters, it will trigger the ancient self-defense magic of the market!"
Marcus sneered, lifting the red crystal high in the air. "I don’t care about your market rules! I am Lord Marcus! Nobody makes a fool of me!"
Before anyone could stop him, Marcus smashed the red crystal hard against the stone floor.
CRASH!
The crystal shattered into a thousand glowing red pieces. A blinding flash of crimson light exploded across the square, filling the air with a deep, echoing siren sound—WEE-WOO, WEE-WOO!
The beautiful white marble buildings around the square suddenly lit up with glowing runes. The happy chatter of the market vanished instantly, replaced by a heavy, terrifying pressure that made everyone fall to their knees.
From the center of the square, where the white stones met, the ground split open with a loud rumble.
RUMBLE...
Slowly, towering out of the ground, a massive stone golem rose into the air. It was twenty feet tall, carved from ancient gray granite, with glowing blue crystal eyes that burned like torches. Heavy iron chains wrapped around its massive arms, dragging across the stone floor with a deafening rattle.
It was a Bazaar Enforcer—the ancient guardian created to punish anyone who dared start violence in the neutral trade zones.
The giant golem turned its heavy stone head slowly, locking its glowing blue gaze directly onto Marcus, his two guards, and Arthur.
A deep, booming voice echoed from the golem’s stone chest, shaking the buildings and vibrating through everyone’s bones:
[ WARNING: VIOLENCE DETECTED IN SECTOR SEVEN NEUTRAL ZONE. ] [ ALL PARTICIPANTS INVOLVED IN ILLEGAL COMBAT WILL BE DETAINED AND BANISHED TO THE VOID. ]
Marcus’s arrogant smile instantly vanished. The color drained completely from his face, leaving him looking pale and sweaty. He dropped his hands to his sides, his knees trembling as the giant golem took a slow, heavy step toward him.
"Wait... wait! I am Lord Marcus of the Crimson Empire! My father is a high-ranking noble in Universe Four!" Marcus stammered, holding up a golden token in his shaking hand. "It wasn’t my fault! It was the orphan! He attacked my guards!"
The giant golem lowered its massive stone head, its glowing blue eyes staring down at Marcus.
[ NEUTRAL LAWS APPLY TO ALL LORDS EQUALLY, ] the golem boomed, raising one giant stone fist into the air. [ NO EXCEPTIONS GRANTED FOR NOBLE STATUS. PREPARE FOR DETENTION. ]
Arthur slowly let go of the guard’s wrist and stepped back, his heart racing. He knew he was in trouble too. He had fought back, and now the enforcer was coming for everyone involved.
As the golem’s giant stone fist began to sweep down toward them like a falling mountain, Arthur instinctively reached into his pocket and grabbed his bronze invitation token.
The moment his fingers touched the cold metal, the token flashed with a bright blue light, creating a small shield of energy around Arthur just as the shockwave of the golem’s fist hit the ground.
BOOM!
White stones cracked everywhere. Dust and smoke filled the air.
When the dust slowly cleared, Marcus and his guards were pinned to the ground by heavy magical chains of light that shot out from the marble floor. They struggled and screamed, unable to move an inch.
Arthur stood safely inside his small blue energy shield, breathing heavily, holding his bronze token in his hand.
The giant stone golem turned its glowing blue eyes away from Marcus and slowly looked down at Arthur. It stared at the bronze token glowing in Arthur’s hand.
The golem stopped moving. Its deep voice rumbled softly, like distant thunder:
[ Detected: Verified Lower Realm Lord Bazaar Invitation Token. ] [ Special Clause Active: Self-Defense permitted under Tier-One Threat Protocol. ] [ However... ]
The golem paused. Its giant stone hand reached down, pointing a massive finger straight at Arthur’s chest.
[ Unauthorized combat inside the market square still violates Section Four of the Bazaar Treaty. To resolve this dispute without banishment, a formal Trial by Combat must be declared in the Bazaar Colosseum. ]
Arthur frowned, stepping forward. "Trial by combat? With him?"
The golem nodded slowly, its stone joints grinding together.
[ Correct. You and Lord Marcus shall enter the Arena of the Lower Realms. The winner takes all territory resources and rights to trade in Sector Seven. The loser is permanently stripped of their Lord status and cast out into the endless void. ]
Marcus, still pinned to the ground by magical chains, let out a loud, wicked laugh, his arrogance returning in an instant.
"Ha! Do you hear that, you stray dog?!" Marcus yelled across the dusty square, his eyes glaring with pure hatred. "You think you got lucky with a cheap trick? In the Colosseum, I have real battle gear, high-level combat skills, and my guards’ weapons! I’m going to crush your little thirty-step rock into dust and throw you into the dark!"
Arthur didn’t say a word. He looked at Marcus, then looked up at the towering stone enforcer, and finally touched the bronze token in his pocket.
He was an orphan with zero family, zero money, and zero backing. He had fought Void Beasts with a heavy rock and a cup of water. He had beaten a scavenger with a dented dagger and a stone wall.
He didn’t have a rich empire or fancy armor. But he had survived every single test the void had thrown at him.
The giant stone golem raised its arm, pointing toward a massive, towering black-stone colosseum rising at the far end of the white-stone square. Heavy iron gates swung open with a deep, echoing groan, revealing a dark, sandy arena lit by torches of blue fire.
[ The Colosseum gates are open, ] the golem announced, its voice echoing across the silent market. [ You have sixty seconds to enter the arena. Refusal means immediate banishment. ]
Arthur took a deep breath. He checked the dented metal dagger at his belt, making sure it was secure. Then, without a single word of fear, he turned his back on the market stalls and started walking slowly toward the dark, open gates of the colosseum.