Chapter 249: v3 - 10: the deathly course III

Chapter 249: v3 Chapter 10: the deathly course III

"Three hundred and nineteen."

Cassian stepped forward.

The crowd reacted immediately.

Not because they knew him.

They didn’t.

They had simply watched the seven men before him.

Seven men had entered the course.

Seven had died.

Now they wanted to see what the next fighter would do.

Cassian stopped at the starting platform.

An attendant approached with the hourglass.

He looked at Cassian once.

Then turned it over.

Sand began to fall.

A bell sounded.

Cassian stepped toward the first log.

Then he stopped.

There was a body beneath it.

One of the men who had gone before him.

He had fallen between the logs.

His body lay among the sharpened stakes below, twisted at an unnatural angle.

Cassian’s eyes lingered for barely a second.

Then he looked away.

There was no time to think about him.

The log shifted beneath Cassian’s weight.

He stepped onto it.

It swayed.

Cassian adjusted his footing.

Ahead of him were four more logs.

Behind him was the starting platform.

Below him was the dead man.

Cassian took another step.

One.

Two.

Three.

He reached the end.

The next log was several feet away.

Cassian crouched.

Jumped.

His feet landed near the center.

The log swung violently.

He bent his knees and absorbed the movement.

Then he moved again.

He had watched seven men die here.

He would not make their mistakes.

But watching them had not prepared him for the pain in his ribs.

Every landing sent another sharp pull through his injured side.

Cassian gritted his teeth.

He kept moving.

He reached the platform.

The crowd had grown quieter.

Cassian looked up.

The next section.

The platforms.

The course rose sharply against the Arena wall.

A series of wooden platforms had been built into the stone, each one higher than the last.

They were not stairs.

There were gaps between them.

Some were barely wide enough for a man’s feet.

Others jutted out at uneven angles.

There were no proper handrails.

Only occasional ropes stretched between sections.

Cassian looked down.

Another body lay below.

One of the men who had gone before him.

He had fallen from the platforms.

His body had landed among the stakes.

Cassian looked away.

The crowd was already shouting again.

The sand continued to fall.

He stepped toward the first platform.

It was nearly chest-high.

He placed one foot against the wall and jumped.

His fingers caught the edge.

He pulled himself up.

The second platform was farther.

He jumped again.

Caught it.

Pulled himself higher.

His ribs protested.

Cassian ignored them.

The third.

The fourth.

His breathing became heavier.

The wound in his side tugged with every movement.

He reached for the next platform.

His fingers caught the edge.

For a moment, his injured leg slipped.

Cassian’s body dropped.

His hand tightened.

He hung there.

Below him were the stakes.

He pulled himself up.

The crowd roared.

Cassian rolled onto the platform and remained there for half a breath.

Then he stood.

He looked toward the hourglass.

The sand was still falling.

He moved.

The next platform.

Then the next.

He reached the top.

The enormous swinging axes waited ahead.

Cassian stopped.

He watched.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

He watched their rhythm.

Below the first platform, a body lay crumpled against the stone.

Another had fallen beneath the second axe.

The first blade swung.

He waited.

It passed.

Cassian stepped forward.

The second blade swung.

He waited.

It passed.

He moved again.

The third came from the opposite direction.

Cassian stepped backward.

The blade passed inches in front of him.

The crowd screamed.

He didn’t move until the blade had completed its arc.

Then he went forward.

One step.

Two.

Three.

Another axe.

Faster.

Cassian watched its rhythm.

He waited for the opening.

Then moved.

The blade passed behind him.

He kept going.

His breathing was becoming ragged.

The next axe swung.

Cassian ducked.

The blade passed above his head.

He straightened.

Another.

He had almost reached the end.

Then his injured leg gave a sharp jolt of pain.

Cassian stumbled.

The axe swung toward him.

He threw himself sideways.

The blade tore through the air where his head had been.

He hit the wooden platform hard.

Pain shot through his ribs.

For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

The crowd roared.

Cassian forced air into his lungs.

He pushed himself upright.

The sand continued falling.

He had no time to stay down.

He ran.

The final axe passed behind him.

Cassian cleared the section.

The crowd erupted.

He stepped forward.

The next section came into view.

Cassian stopped.

Wooden boards stretched ahead over another pit.

Some were fixed.

Others hung loosely.

Some were already cracked.

Cassian looked at the falling sand.

Then back at the boards.

There was no time to learn slowly.

He stepped onto the first.

Solid.

He stepped forward.

The second.

Solid.

Third.

He shifted his weight.

The board tilted beneath him.

Cassian immediately jumped to the next.

It held.

He kept moving.

Behind him, the crowd grew louder.

Cassian didn’t look back.

The boards became narrower.

The gaps wider.

One broke beneath his foot.

Cassian jumped.

His foot caught the edge of the next board.

He nearly fell.

He grabbed the rope beside him.

His shoulder screamed.

For a moment, he hung there.

Then he pulled himself back up.

He looked toward the hourglass.

Less sand remained.

He had to move.

Cassian pushed forward.

Another board.

Another.

Then the final platform.

He reached it.

The crowd erupted.

Cassian looked ahead.

The final section.

One suspended beam.

One enormous gap.

And the finish platform beyond it.

He stopped.

The beam swung slowly from side to side.

Cassian watched.

He calculated the distance.

His breathing was heavy.

His ribs hurt.

His leg hurt.

His arm burned beneath the fresh brand.

But he was still standing.

The sand continued falling.

Cassian waited.

The beam swung toward him.

He stepped onto it.

It shifted.

He lowered his center of gravity.

One step.

Two.

The beam swung away.

Cassian adjusted.

Three.

Four.

He was halfway across.

The crowd was screaming now.

The beam swung sharply.

Cassian nearly lost his balance.

He crouched.

Waited.

Then continued.

The finish platform was close.

Very close.

Cassian looked at the hourglass.

Only a small amount of sand remained.

He couldn’t wait anymore.

He ran.

The beam swung.

Cassian jumped.

For one terrifying instant, there was nothing beneath him.

Then his feet struck the platform.

He stumbled forward.

Caught himself.

And collapsed onto solid ground.

The bell rang.

The crowd exploded.

Cassian remained on one knee, breathing heavily.

He had made it.

Alive.

For several seconds, he could do nothing but breathe.

Then he slowly looked back at the course.

The logs.

The platforms.

The axes.

The broken boards.

The final beam.

And beneath all of it—

the stakes.

Seven men had entered before him.

Seven had died.

Cassian was the first to make it out.

He forced himself upright.

The crowd continued roaring.

The announcer’s voice thundered across the Arena.

Cassian couldn’t understand a word.

He didn’t need to.

The way the crowd reacted told him enough.

Their first survivor.

The words weren’t his language, but somehow the meaning reached him.

They were celebrating him.

The first man to cross the course alive.

Cassian stood alone at the far end, breathing heavily as thousands of people shouted above him.

For one strange moment, he simply stared.

Then the cheering began to settle.

The announcer spoke again.

"Three hundred and twenty."

Cassian looked toward the starting platform.

Another fighter stepped forward.

The hourglass was turned.

The sand began to fall.

And the course began again.

--

Tbc