Recap: A couple is stranded on a planet when their ship is stolen, and they spend all the money they have to hire a bounty hunter called, Vanlith, to get it back, but when he returns their ship he demands more money. Because they can't pay, they are both taken as slaves and the wife, Dituri, watches helplessly as her husband, Cantos, fights for their freedom in the arena.
Cantos stared down at his opponent lying motionless on the ground. The stand of the fighting pit gathered around his heavy armour, threatening to swallow the dead man whole, and if left here long enough, that would surely happen.
"Oh, we, ahh, the winner of this round seems to be Cantos. That is unless Slasher decides to rise." The commentator wasn't as cocky as he had been, and his voice trailed off at the end. "No, doesn't seem like he's alive. Well, that means that this Cantos, while he is a newcomer to the arena, he is on his way to becoming the champion. You know the drill by now, choose your trophy, and let's get on with it."
Cantos knew exactly what he was going to take; it was the thing that he needed most if he had any hope of surviving these games, and earning the freedom of himself and most importantly, his partner, Dituri. He reached down and could feel the tension in his back, chest, and stomach. The kicks he sustained made breathing a chore, but Cantos knew he couldn't dwell on the aches. The cold steel helmet was heavy, and he awkwardly pulled at it, hardly noticing the Pitt Crawlers, waiting to haul the dead man out of the arena. He yanked at the helmet, and finally, it came loose. The moment he had it in hand, he started to unbuckle the straps and prepare to adorn it. The moment he started to, the sniveling creeps who surrounded him, took the body and dragged it away.
Cantos stared into the face of his opponent, it was a heavily scared Beskin, its matted fur was missing in clumps, and even in death, the expression the creature wore was a pained one; the agony of the life they had to endure on this world.
"There we have it, the newcomer has acquired a new helmet, and at that, a full set of armour. Which is something he is going to need in the upcoming fights, and-" The commentator stopped speaking.
Looking at the VIP stand, and beside it where the commentator spoke from, Cantos noticed someone speaking with them. He took one last look at Dituri, before putting on the helmet. As it slid over his head, he felt truly protected. It was heavy, and movement would be more difficult with it on, but more so than that, his vision was obscured by shards of steel that seemed to cover the visor in unparallel directions.
"There have been some changes made to the events. Instead of fighting the next rounds, there will only be one more fight of the day." The commentator said solemnly, and as he finished the crowd turned nasty; hurling abuse and taunts at the VIP section. "But, it will be an entertaining one! A fight worthy of ending this fine day! The newcomer is going to face the champion of the pit!" The crowd turned, and an eruption of cheers could be heard echoing off the old bloodstained walls of this hell hole.
The champion? I don't think I'm ready for that fight, not yet, not without better arms and armour. Cantos was worried, and while he knew this turn of events wasn't ideal, or fair for that matter, there was nothing he could do to change it.
"Prepare yourself fighter, this will not be easy."
He sat on the ground, with his legs crossed, and figured the best thing he could do until the large gates lifted, was rest. Picking up a handful of sand, he held it steady and then loosened his grip, and watched the grains fall blowing in the air like dust.
Minutes passed by, and Cantos managed to quiet his mind, relieve it of worry, as well as blocking out the jeers and noise from the crowd. He was calm, for the first time in a long time, he felt no fear, no pain, and no anxiety.
The gates began to lift, and that was his queue to get to his feet. After a slight struggle, he did, and stared intently at whoever this champion is, this final fight.
Dituri stared down from the stands, and even at this distance she could see the bruises on her husband's body, the awkward movements of as he threaded on damaged legs, the strained breaths and the excursion, the sweat.
It was a cruel game and a disgusting thing they were doing to him, and every time she glanced at the owner of the arena, the fat mess that would be her master should Cantos fall, she would get a shudder; to even think of what he would have her do was torturous and too much to bare. Even those prospects were nothing compared to seeing her husband fall in this place, to see hundreds cheer as he died would be unthinkable. All she could do was silently pray, and hope that he would be granted the strength to persevere; she begged that he would win this fight. Imagining the two of them leaving this place hand in hand, brought a tear to her eye, a tear that was wiped away by the smiling blob who hoped to own her soon.
The gates opened, and all she could do was watch helplessly, as Cantos awaited his final opponent. As they were fully raised, there was no one there. Dituri could only wonder if this was some cruel joke, are they saying there is no champion? That there is no fight? That there is no hope of leaving this pit? A black void, shadow, and emptiness filled the inside of the place, and by the look of his posture, Cantos was ready to step forward into the darkness.
She saw boots before body, and then the armour of the champion came into full view. It was uniform, unlike the other fighters, and what's more than that it was familiar, but she couldn't immediately place where she had seen it before. It then dawned on her, that the armour was that of Vanlith, the bounty hunter who dragged them to this place for not paying.