The Island of Wonder

That day, when the girl met the stranger, changed her life in a way she couldn’t have imagined at the time. Following the man, she entered the marble palace that most people didn’t even dare to dream of. She was placed in a room with many Torakai around her age — all nameless slaves. There, she was given her own bed and a basic set of clothes. At first, it was a strange feeling to sleep on something softer than the wooden floor of her cell.

Some fools tried to escape, but quickly learned that no way out was apparent. After a day or two, the stranger who had brought her to the palace entered the room and gathered everyone before him. He told them that if they wanted to stay there and live a better life than before, they would have to get stronger. The rule was simple — the strong feed on the weak.

That single rule quickly formed a hierarchy among the teens. The girl found herself at the bottom, since her past life had given her no skills that could help her now. She was used to following orders and feeling grateful for even the smallest amount of food. The stronger ones — those with physical power or enough cunning to side with them — thrived. They took whatever they wanted from the weaker ones, like the red-haired girl. Most of the food, spare clothes, and any rare findings were taken from her immediately. Her life became similar to the one she had at the slave shop, except now she wasn’t beaten as often.

This continued for over an eclipse, but soon everything would change. One evening, one of her male roommates approached her as she lay on her bed. Muscular since day one, he had quickly earned a high position in their small society. He was the one who usually demanded she hand over her things — and now, his appetite had grown enough to demand even more from her. The one thing that she was afraid of loosing even back in her previous life.

The girl, unsure how to react, was torn between fighting back or surrendering in hopes of less pain. Yet before the man could touch her, his hand was pushed away by another resident of the large room — a black-haired girl, strong enough to maintain her independence. At first, when the hierarchy was forming, some had tried to make her submit but failed, left with shame and scars instead. Despite her strength, the black-haired girl didn’t prey on others, instead she preferred to stay apart from everyone.

"I’m tired of seeing you do this to every girl you can," she said coldly. The look in her eyes, and the fact that she was ready to fight anyone, was enough to make the man back off and search for an easier prey. Then she turned to the red-haired girl. "And you. Why didn’t you stop him? Why do you, like most others, allow things to happen to you?" Her voice was sharp with anger. "You’re lucky I felt merciful today — even though I swore I wouldn’t."

Before she could leave, the red-haired girl grabbed her arm. That was the girl’s first choice — the first thing she did out of her own will. That small act led to a brief conversation, then another the next day. Over time, those talks grew into a friendship. The words she’d heard that night stayed with her, and with help and determination, after many long days and nights, the small and weak red-haired girl became someone capable of defending herself and everything she considered as hers.

Time passed, and when everyone was around eighteen, the stranger returned. He announced that in half an eclipse, there would be a fighting tournament. The winner would receive an unthinkable reward — a name and freedom. The news shook everyone. Some immediately began training, hoping to grow strong and be lucky enough to win. Others were devastated, knowing they stood no chance against those at the top of food chain.

The red- and black-haired girls wasted no time. Using their sharp claws, they sparred and doubled their training efforts. One night, they made a promise to each other: "When one of us wins, we’ll do everything possible to free the other." It wasn’t a matter of if, only when. During that time, neither skipped a single day of training despite constant exhaustion. They went to sleep with aching limbs, only to wake up and work hard to get that ache again. Life was hard, but it was the happiest time in the red-haired girl’s life.

The tournament came in the blink of an eye — and they both believed they were ready. Everyone in the large room was divided into groups of eight Torakai. One group at a time was escorted into smaller rooms containing nothing but eight beds. To the girl’s disappointment, she and her friend were placed in separate rooms, and guards strictly forbade anyone from leaving, much less visiting another room.

The next day, the tournament began. Guards took the first pair and led them away. The girl spent most of the day sitting on her bed, uncertain about what awaited them. After a while, only one out of the pair returned. Through a quick exchange of questions, everyone learned the horrifying truth: to end a fight, one contestant had to die.

At first, red-haired girl was anxious about her friend. But she managed to convince herself that there was no way her friend could lose to anybody, after all she was avoided by everyone and no one dared to stand in her way.

Each day, one pair was taken from their room — and only one ever came back. Though the number of people dwindled and there were less roommates and more space, the room somehow felt smaller with each passing day.

On the fourth day, it was finally her turn — and another girl’s, the only ones who hadn’t fought yet. They were brought into a circular arena. Sand covered the floor, and the stone walls rose high around them. All around, spectators sat shouting and pointing excitedly at the newcomers. The girl had never seen so many people in one place.

The guards ordered them to stand a few meters apart in the arena’s center. Then one of them shouted, "Fight!"

The girls stood in silence, uncertain what to do, uncomfortable under the weight of countless eyes. In the red-haired girl’s mind echoed her friend’s words. She unsheathed her claws, clenched her fists, and took a hesitant first step forward. She had sworn to win and free her friend. She couldn’t back down now, not after everything. The next step was easier. Then another. Until she broke into a run.

The other girl was too slow. She didn’t react in time — had no chance to survive. The red-haired girl was already upon her, claws piercing the other’s lungs. She lacked real combat experience, so her strikes weren’t immediately fatal. After a few more desperate slashes, she stepped back, staring at what she’d done — the other girl lay on the ground, coughing blood, a crimson pool spreading beneath her. She saw the pain and fear in her victim’s eyes as life left her.

The crowd fell silent at the sudden, brutal end — but a moment later erupted in cheers and laughter. The red-haired girl was taken back to the waiting room, where only four Torakai remained. That night, she couldn’t sleep., ehe dying girl’s face haunted her every time she closed her eyes.

Over the next two days, everything repeated. Again, she was taken to the arena, and again, she won. She forced herself to stay focused, not letting emotion undo all she had worked for. After her third fight, the crowd began chanting "Red Beast!", their voices echoed in unison, following her even as she was escorted back to her now empty room - everyone beside her was already dead.

She had never been close to the others, but the emptiness felt strange — the first time in her life she had truly been alone. At least, the visions of those she had killed no longer appeared. She told herself this was simply how life worked — as the stranger had said years ago: the strong feed on the weak.

The next day, she faced someone who wasn't in her room, she realized it had to be the last surviving fighter from another group. The fight lasted only slightly longer than the previous ones. She struck him with all her strength, and that was enough. The tournament continued for several more days. With each victory, the crowd shouted louder, even before her fights began. The attention felt strange — yet empowering. Being cheered for, admired — it made her want to win again and again, no matter how hard it became.

On the tenth day, before she was taken to the arena, she accidentally overheard the guards talking outside her room.

"Wanna bet on who wins today?"

"I thought you quit betting after losing your sword in that drinking game."

"Do you have to remind me? Ugh. But it’s the final fight — it’s either one or the other. My bet’s on the Edge. The Beast’s not bad, but she lacks the Edge’s finesse."

"Haha, I think the same. But we can’t bet if we’re both picking the same person. Still, it’s a shame they have to kill. Both are nice girls. I’d rather have either in my bed than see them fight to the death."

The girl stepped back from the door. Beast and Edge? If she was the Red Beast, then who was the other? She swallowed hard, trying not to think the thought she already knew was true. She hadn’t yet faced her friend — and the black-haired girl wouldn’t have lost.

The sight of black hair — once a symbol of comfort and friendship — was now the last thing she wanted to see. When the time came and the guards brought her into the arena, her worst fear was confirmed.