The Shadow of Draconia The Gladiator's Chains

The streets of Varcrest never slept. By day, rchants shouted their wares, and beggars clawed for scraps. By night, blood painted the sand of the Iron Pits, the kingdom’s fad gladiatorial arena where n and beasts alike were thrown to slaughter for noble amusent.

Sonar had little interest in sport. But he had heard whispers: of an orc who had fought for ten years without defeat, who had crushed ogres with his bare hands and split knights in half with rusted axes. An orc who was denied freedom despite winning it a dozen tis over.

The nobles called him Korrak Stonefist.

The Guide System’s voice echoed in Sonar’s mind as he walked through the crowded arena gates.

[Potential Executioner Detected: Korrak Stonefist – Title: “The Unbroken.”]

[Evaluation: Loyalty Achieved Through Liberation.]

Sonar’s lips curved. Another piece of the blade falls into place.

The arena roared with drunken cheer. Nobles lounged in gilded seats while peasants pressed against iron bars for a glimpse of bloodshed. In the pit, Korrak stood like a mountain of green flesh and scarred muscle. Shackles clinked on his wrists, though they seed too small to restrain him. His tusked jaw dripped with crimson, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm as three armored knights circled him.

“Kill the beast!” a noble shrieked, throwing a goblet of wine into the sand.

The knights charged as one.

Korrak t them head-on. His shackles snapped with a sound like breaking bone, and in the blink of an eye, he seized the first knight by the throat and slamd him into the earth so hard his helm caved in. The second fell to a brutal knee that shattered his ribs. The third tried to retreat, but Korrak ripped his sword away and drove it through the man’s breastplate like it was parchnt.

The crowd scread approval, drunk on violence. But Sonar saw sothing else. He saw the emptiness in Korrak’s eyes. The rage was not for victory, but survival. He was a chained wolf, forced to dance for scraps.

When the fight ended, Sonar bribed his way into the lower cells.

The orc sat chained once more, arms bound by enchanted steel. His body was covered in scars, yet he stared at the wall with the calm of one who had already accepted endless tornt.

Sonar stepped into the torchlight. “You are wasted here, Stonefist.”

The orc looked up, eyes like molten gold. “Another noble co to mock ?” His voice rumbled like distant thunder.

“No,” Sonar said, his tone sharp. “A sovereign co to free you.”

Korrak barked a humorless laugh. “Free ? Many have promised that. None lived to speak it twice.”

Sonar’s black fire sparked to life, its glow staining the cell in crimson shadows. The orc’s laughter died.

“I do not offer false promises,” Sonar continued. “I offer chains of a different kind — not shackles of steel, but loyalty bound by purpose. Fight for , and you will no longer be an animal in a pit. You will be a general in my army. One of my ten Executioners. Together, we will tear kingdoms to dust.”

For the first ti, Korrak’s eyes sharpened, his tusks baring in a grin. “And if I refuse?”

“Then I will burn you where you sit,” Sonar said, his voice calm as a blade sliding into flesh.

Silence hung heavy in the cell. Then, slowly, Korrak leaned forward, the chains rattling.

“Free , boy. Give a war worth fighting… and my fists will crush your enemies until the mountains themselves bleed.”

Sonar raised his hand. Black fire licked across the enchanted chains, devouring their magic like dry wood. The shackles fell with a clang.

Korrak stood tall, rolling his shoulders, free for the first ti in years. He knelt on one knee, his head bowed low.

“I am Korrak Stonefist,” he growled. “My strength is yours, Sovereign.”

The Guide System chid:

[Recruitnt Complete: Korrak Stonefist – The Iron Juggernaut.]

[Second Executioner Acquired.]

Sonar’s empire now had its fist.

And with Veyra’s blades and Korrak’s strength, the Draconic Executioners were beginning to take form.

🔥 End of Chapter Three.