Krax
Welcome to Crater Base Delta54.
KRAX
Crater Base Delta54 is a premier destination for gladiatorial slave combat. While death is rare, pain is guaranteed. Frax Stables holds the papers for top tier combatants, including the arena favorite and their champion—Krax.
Krax has been here for more sols than he can remember, but he’s one fight away from paying off his debt price. That’s a problem, and there are several parties looking to make sure he stays. Can he outsmart instead of outfight his way to freedom?
EXCERPT
“A great fighter deserves a great fight to leave by.”
While there weren’t many, there were rules. If the Gambling Board refused to place odds on a fight, often because they believed it wouldn’t extend past the minimum time limits, then Krax was at least ensured a reasonable match. Clearly, Malichai wanted a splashy event, offering maximum sponsors, and credit exchanges.
Krax inclined his head in agreement. “It would be a great honor.”
“Excellent.” Malichai grinned in a manner that sent more shadows across his shoulder. “I’ve scheduled an arena fight, so all your fans could attend.”
Arena fight? Krax rarely fought with others. In all the years he’d been here he’d only paired up thrice. In every instance, he’d lost his partner. While death was uncommon, it did happen. The Gambling Board fined deaths heavily, and stables were careful to avoid them. The fines paid off the deceased fighter’s debt price, and any surplus was sent to listed beneficiaries.
This was not the way to pay off a debt price.
Malichai’s smile grew wide. “In fact, I purchased a new fighter just to liven up the crowd.”
A slight figure stumbled out from between two of the owner’s goons. The man ignored the indignity of being pushed. He waved his arms, and the magnetic bracelets snicked as they disengaged. The man’s huff of annoyed breath nearly covered the sound.
He was too pretty to be a fighter, all long limbs and luscious unmarred skin. Every gladiator in the stable stared at the newcomer. Whispers grew around Krax as his stablemates speculated on the man’s skills both in and out of the cage.
Malichai grabbed a handful of hair, so black it glinted blue. He yanked, bringing the newcomer’s face out from its curtain of hair. “This is Pherral.”
Graul coughed. The others weren’t quite so polite.
“Feral? Like a kitten?”
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