After the fiasco with the girl, Lon'qu remained far away from the mansion. His life fell into a repetitive pattern – a trek to the arena each morning, three or four fights, a small snack he had either stolen or begged for, a few more fights - and when he was too tired to continue - a bowl of porridge and a long walk home. He knew not too push his limits too far, lest he run into some gold-hungry bandits looking for easy prey on his way home.
Slowly but surely, the gold he had earned from the arena was building up. Perhaps they would be able to move out of the slums – maybe in a year or two. Lon'qu was still young, and unless he sustained an injury, he was certain that he could keep up his record in the arenas.
He slid a whetstone down the grimy sword he carried. He had just finished his third fight of the day, and was preparing to start the fourth. Going up to the arena master again, he nodded at the ring.
"I'm ready for another fight."
The arena master smiled mirthlessly. "Your next opponent will be a level 15 Myrmidon, and I want you to wager 860 gold. Are you up to that?" He jerked a thumb in the direction of where the myrmidon sat, waiting to be matched with a challenger.
Lon'qu absentmindedly fingered the gold coins in his pocket. It would be a riskier wager, but it would pay off if he succeeded. However, his arms felt sore and his legs a little leaden from his past bouts, so he decided that it might be better to err on the side of safety. "I'll pass on this one," he replied. "Got anybody else?"
The arena master sighed. "That's a pity. All your fights tend to be so one-sided that the audience gets bored. Well, I have two more challengers. The next one is a level 10 Mage, and your wager will be 610 gold. Does that sound like a deal?"
Though the mage had the benefit of long-range damage, Lon'qu was fairly sure that with his speed and intuition, he'd be able to dodge and close the distance in order to get to closer fighting quarters. And besides, his opponent was only level 10. "It's a deal."
He entered the arena and waited for the starting horn to sound. He was surprised to see that his opponent was younger than he was – for the past few years, Lon'qu had always held the title of the youngest contender. Maybe his opponent was a brash merchant's son trying to prove himself to other boys. Or more likely, a nobleman's son. Not many commoners had the chance to learn magic. It would be easy pickings, then. The boy would yield after a few tastes of pain, and he would go home 610 gold pieces richer.
The horn sounded, and Lon'qu leaped forward noiselessly, throwing himself at his opponent. Under other circumstances, he would have tried to feel out his opponent's skill level first, circling and feinting, but he hoped that this approach would startle the boy into losing his wits. Lon'qu saw the surprise in the boy's eyes as he stumbled backwards while simultaneously casting a spell, trying to maintain the distance between them. Lon'qu arced his blade through the air, slicing through the mage's clothing and glancing off the flesh of his upper arm. Not hard enough to permanently injure, but enough to cause the mage to cry out in pain. Lon'qu winced at how young the boy sounded. He would never understand why mages wore so little armor. He had passed the mage now, having underestimated the time it would have taken him to slow down. Circling back around for another hit, Lon'qu raised his sword once more. The mage had almost finished casting now - Lon'qu had to keep alert - an elfire spell – there! Lon'qu dodged it with ease. The mage was defenseless for now, and Lon'qu pressed his sword against the boy's throat.
"Going to yield?" he asked.
The boy ignored him and began another incantation.
Lon'qu increased the pressure, and a bright bead of ruby-red blood appeared, adorning the mage's slender neck. Life was so fragile, Lon'qu thought. Still the boy said nothing. Frustrated, Lon'qu shouted at the boy. "Do you want to die, then? Give up!"
The boy squeezed his eyes shut and continued muttering. If Lon'qu did not act soon, the next spell would hit him at point-blank range. He grit his teeth together, thinking. He couldn't wait much longer or else he'd be seriously injured. He'd have to kill the foolish child. He'd killed before, but those had mostly been brash men drunk on alcohol and arrogance.
He never realized his sword had been so slippery. His palms were coated in sweat as he prepared to strike the finishing blow. And as he tightened his grip, he took in the boy's appearance and looked at him for the first time. Not as a mere enemy to defeat and conquer, but as a fellow human. It had been so long since Lon'qu had thought of an opponent in the ring as another living being, and with good reason. It was too hard to fight opponents wholeheartedly when Lon'qu thought of the loved ones who would mourn if they were killed.
The boy's clothes were in tatters. His spellbook was well-worn, filled with dog-eared pages. Evidently, he had not come from money, or if he had, calamity had befallen his family. Lon'qu felt a nudge of guilt, his conscience reminding him of how a measly five years earlier, he could have been that very boy, but he pushed it aside and focused on what he had to do. "Kill him," he thought, "All it takes is a little slip of the hand, a practiced move that you've learned years ago, and it's just another one of those practice dummies that you beat at with wooden swords seven years ago."
A sudden, blinding, flash – and he was lying flat on his back, momentarily stunned. The world spun around his head and his vision began to fade, fuzzy black dots from the corners of his eyes slowly beginning to infringe on his eyesight.
Before he lost all consciousness, Lon'qu heard a girl call his name.
A/N: Muhahahaha. Wonder what's up with Lon'qu's past?