UNMEI: Pantheon's Game-Chapter 114: Two Brothers

The stadium roared as Ned and Raves stepped into the arena.

Up in the stands, Dune leaned forward slightly, his hands gripping the cold stone railing.

Beside him, the tension was almost tangible. Every match counted now, every step could decide a future.

Across from Ned, Raves Rodeny cracked his knuckles lazily. His red Rodeny attire gleamed in the sunlight, a sharp contrast to the ruthless grin stretching across his face.

He strutted to his side of the platform like a king approaching an execution.

The bell rang.

They launched at each other.

Ned was the first to strike, a quick jab to the side that Raves narrowly blocked. Raves retaliated with a heavy hook, but Ned slipped under it and countered with a sharp elbow to the ribs. The crack of impact drew a murmur from the crowd.

"Ned isn't backing down!" Ramires shouted from above, voice crackling with excitement.

"He's giving Raves Rodeny a real fight!"

They exchanged blows like a storm.

Ned weaved through Raves's powerful punches, striking with sharp, calculated hits.

He kicked Raves's knee, then ducked and delivered a brutal uppercut to his jaw that snapped Raves's head back. Blood sprayed from Raves's lip.

The crowd stirred.

Dune felt a flicker of hope in his chest.

Keep it up, Ned. Keep it up.

Raves wiped the blood with the back of his hand, his smile gone. His gaze darkened.

Without warning, Raves surged forward, hammering forming a Neba sword and slashing it down with a savage fury. Ned met him head-on, blocking and countering, slipping just barely around devastating strikes.

For every heavy blow Raves landed, Ned answered with a piercing punch to the ribs, or a low kick to the shin. The arena floor bore the scuff marks of their struggle.

Ned threw another punch toward Raves's chest, aiming to knock the wind out of him.

It was perfect, direct, strong, until his fist landed. A crack echoed through the air, louder than before.

Ned's hand snapped backward, grotesquely bent. His face twisted in shock and pain.

Raves's body had hardened. His skin, his flesh, transformed into something like living stone. A cruel armor layered over his body.

The crowd gasped, and the tension twisted sharply.

No. Dune stiffened.

Before Ned could react, Raves seized the advantage.

He slammed his knee into Ned's stomach, driving the air from his lungs. Ned tried to backpedal, tried to reset, but Raves was relentless.

He closed the distance with monstrous strength and sent Ned sprawling with a brutal hammer blow to the back.

Ned rolled, coughing up blood, but he scrambled to his feet, one arm hanging uselessly.

Dune watched with his heart pounding in his chest.

"Raves finally revealed his insane ability! And Ned is still refusing to surrender!" Ramires called out, voice tight. "This is turning dangerous!"

Raves laughed, an ugly, mocking sound, and advanced. "What's wrong, filthy lowlife?"

He caught Ned by the throat, lifting him effortlessly into the air before slamming him down like a broken doll. Blood splattered across the stage.

The crowd's excitement turned into a mix of horror and thrill.

High above, the officials looked on grimly.

King Aramir's face darkened.

Richard Neville's fists tightened in his lap.

Cel frowned deeply.

Yet no one moved to stop it.

Raves leaned close to Ned's battered form, sneering.

"You thought... you could stand among us?" he said, voice loud enough to carry across the arena.

He lifted Ned's bloody face for all to see. "You thought you could be more than a filthy commoner?"

He slammed Ned's head into the floor again.

Dune's nails bit into his palms.

Move, damn it... get up...

But Ned barely stirred.

Raves stood, boot pressing against Ned's spine, grinding him into the stone.

Above them, the sky stretched vast and empty, as if even the heavens were silent.

Raves raised his voice again, cruel and commanding, "Give up. Before I break you for good."

Ned, broken but not yet defeated, let out a low, trembling growl from deep within his chest, the only defiance he could still offer.

But his body was failing. His points were already slipping through his bloodied fingers. One word would end it all.

And Raves knew it.

Atlas's jaw tightened as he threw a sharp glance at Dune, frustration rippling from him like heat from a fire.

"We gotta do something..." he hissed under his breath, barely able to keep his voice steady.

Dune didn't look at him. His eyes stayed locked on the arena below, unblinking, cold in a way that betrayed the storm raging inside.

"If we interfere," Dune said, his voice low and tight, "they'll disqualify us too."

Atlas gritted his teeth, fists clenching at his sides. "But–!"

Dune turned to him now, his gaze fierce enough to slice through stone.

"If we step in, it'll only make it worse. Ned's on the edge already. If we act like he needs saving, it might break him completely."

Atlas had no answer. His anger boiled under his skin as he cursed quietly, helplessly.

Down below, blood continued to stain the floor, the pitiless crowd roaring like a hungry beast.

Ned, his body mangled and trembling, forced himself upright once more.

His legs wobbled, threatening to give out with every step, but somehow he stood. Somehow he endured.

Across from him, Raves Rodeny sneered with an ugly smirk, the contempt in his eyes clear as day.

"What's wrong, little rat?" Raves jeered, spitting mockingly at the ground. "Need big brother to come save you?"

Ned heard it, but it barely registered. His vision was swimming, blurring the world into a formless haze of pain and noise.

And yet... through the crimson mist... he lifted his gaze.

High above, beyond the chaos, he saw him.

Dune.

No, i don't need Dune, i can't always be dependent on him.

Yes, I'm weak.

The thought slashed through him like a blade.

I was always the weakest.

He had always needed saving. Every step of the way, it had been Dune dragging him out of danger, Dune shielding him from the world's cruelty, Dune standing tall where he could not.

And now here he was again, broken, beaten, pathetic, needing his brother to step in, to cover his failure.

No. Not this time.

His fists curled weakly at his sides, trembling more from shame than pain.

I don't want him to see me like this again. I don't want to be the one everyone looks at with pity... the one everyone laughs at.

He could hear them now, the spectators.

Their snickers. Their cruel, mocking words.

He was supposed to prove them wrong.

He was supposed to show them that bloodlines didn't matter, that normal people like him could stand just as high as nobles.

And yet...Here he was. A failure in every sense of the word.

Still, with what little strength he had left, he staggered forward, throwing a feeble punch, a broken thing, almost pitiful.

Raves caught it easily.

With a twisted grin, he wrenched Ned's arm sideways, and a sickening crack echoed through the arena as bone snapped. Ned gasped, the pain exploding through his entire body.

Before he could react, Raves's hands moved like a viper. One wrapped around Ned's throat, crushing the air from his lungs, while the other gripped his shoulder with brutal force.

Ned struggled weakly, trying to pry Raves's fingers away, but he had no strength left.

He was a puppet dangling from torn strings.

With a roar, Raves tore, flesh and part of a bone ripping apart under his fingers. Blood sprayed, staining the ground darker still.

The crowd recoiled. Even the most bloodthirsty spectators fell silent for a heartbeat.

Ned's body crumpled to the ground like a discarded rag.

He coughed weakly, blood staining his lips, his chest heaving as he gasped for air that wouldn't come.

The arena spun around him, blurring into a maelstrom of light and sound.

Above it all, Raves laughed. A cruel, echoing sound that grated against Ned's bones.

"Not gonna give up?" Raves snarled, kicking Ned's broken form onto his back. "You thought you could prove everyone wrong?"

Ned could barely lift his head, but he forced his eyes open.

The laughter was deafening now, suffocating him more than the blood clogging his throat.

He couldn't breathe.

He couldn't move.

He couldn't win.

And worst of all, he couldn't stop the tears from spilling down his battered face.

I'm so pathetic... so pitiful...

Every part of him screamed to stay down. To give up. To end this humiliation before it swallowed him whole.

But somewhere deep, buried beneath the agony and the shame, a spark flickered.

A stubborn, furious spark that refused to die.

His hand twitched weakly against the ground.

His eyes locked onto Dune's figure again, high above.

He didn't want to be saved.

He didn't want to lose.

Not again.

Not like this.

The arena was soaked in silence broken only by Ned's ragged, wheezing breaths.

Blood pooled beneath him, glistening darkly under the harsh arena lights.

Above, Raves formed a blade in his hands again, enhancing it with a green Neba.

He stared down at the broken boy beneath him, a wolf savoring the final kill.

"You gonna give up now?" Raves asked lazily, spinning the sword once between his fingers, his tone almost mocking.

Ned said nothing.

His mouth tasted of blood and dirt, his body a twisted mess of pain.

But deep inside, past the agony and shame, there was only a hard, stubborn silence.

A refusal.

Above the arena, James Murderthrone laughed loudly enough for everyone to hear, throwing his head back as if it were the grandest joke in the world.

"Stupid nobody," James sneered, leaning casually on the marble railing. "A sad end for sad blood. Should've known your place."

Many others chuckled along, some sneering, others shaking their heads at the pathetic sight of the broken boy who dared to dream beyond his station.

Down below, Raves cast a glance up toward other competitors' platform.

His gaze found his brother, Azrael Rodeny.

Azrael didn't speak, he didn't need to.

A slight nod was all it took.

Permission? No, a Command.

Raves turned back toward Ned, his grin widening as he gripped the Neba sword tightly.

He would end it here.

Crush whatever fragile hope the boy had left.

The blade hummed menacingly as Raves lifted it high, ready to carve the final humiliation into the flesh of a boy who dared to believe he could be something more.

Ned blinked through the blood clouding his vision, barely able to see the weapon rising.

But he didn't look away.

I won't...

The thought burned, raw and pure, in his chest.

I won't give them the pleasure.

I won't crawl.

I won't kneel.

Even if it costs me everything.

Even if i die here, in the dirt like some unwanted mutt.

I'd rather die standing... than bow to trash like them.

He shut his eyes, not from fear, but from defiance. He braced himself for the end.

Above, Atlas was already moving, half-risen from his seat, heart hammering in his chest.

"I'm going," he hissed between gritted teeth, rage crackling through his veins. "I don't care what happens!"

But when he turned toward Dune,

Dune wasn't there.

Panic flashed through Atlas's mind. "Where-?"

The answer came with a gasp that tore through the entire arena at once.

Everyone's eyes widened. Officials sprang to their feet. Even Azrael raised an eyebrow in faint interest.

Down below, just inches before the sword could cleave Ned apart- It stopped.

Caught by someone.

The bloodied blade trembled in the air, helpless, pinned like an insect against glass.

And standing there, with a hand wrapped around Raves's sword like it was nothing but a child's toy, was a figure cloaked in simple black.

Dune.

He stood there, calm and immovable, eyes burning with a fury so cold it seemed to freeze the air around him.

The whole arena stared, too stunned to speak.

Ned, dazed and broken, tilted his head upward, and when his blurry gaze found that familiar silhouette

A sob, raw and silent, tore its way through his chest.

His brother had come.

Again.