<b>Chapter 5: A Meal Among Strangers</b>


    The scent of roasted meat and warm bread filled the inn, wrapping Kai in a haze of unfamiliar comfort. The long wooden tables were scattered with travelers—merchants nursing cups of ale, hunters swapping stories, a pair of off-duty guards leaning back in their chairs.


    Kai sat with his back to the wall, his instincts screaming at him to stay alert. Old Bo, on the other hand, lounged with ease, fingers tapping against his wooden staff as if they hadn’t spent years surviving in places where dropping your guard meant death.


    A young server placed a steaming plate in front of them. Kai eyed the food—thick slices of venison, roasted tubers, a hunk of bread. His stomach tightened. It had been a long time since he’d eaten something that wasn’t caught or foraged.


    "You gonna stare at it, boy, or eat?" Old Bo asked, tearing a piece of bread and popping it into his mouth.


    Kai picked up his fork. "Tastes different," he muttered after his first bite.


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    Old Bo chuckled. "That’s what food’s supposed to taste like when it ain’t cooked over a campfire with nothing but salt and desperation."


    Kai huffed but kept eating. The conversation around them rose and fell, laughter mixing with the clink of mugs. A group of traders discussed a shipment delayed by a rockslide, while a traveler bragged about surviving a beast attack in the mountains.


    Then, a voice cut through the noise.


    "—you hear about the arena?"


    Kai’s hand stilled.


    "Big tournament happening soon," the speaker continued, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek. "Fighters from all over. Could make a fortune betting on the right one."


    "Betting?" someone scoffed. "What fool throws coin on a fight they ain''t in?"


    Scar-cheek smirked. "A smart one. Some of those warriors could tear a man apart with their bare hands."


    Kai set his fork down. He had fought beasts, trained under Old Bo, honed his body until he could move like a shadow through the wildlands. But an arena…


    That was a different kind of battleground.


    Old Bo sipped his drink, watching him. "Something on your mind, boy?"


    Kai hesitated. "These tournaments… anyone can enter?"


    Old Bo’s smile was slow, knowing. "That depends. You lookin’ to fight, or to be seen?"


    Kai frowned. "What’s the difference?"


    Old Bo leaned back, eyes half-lidded. "A fight’s just fists and blood. Ain’t much different from a hunt. But bein’ seen? That’s a game of its own." He tapped his staff against the floor. "Folk remember a winner. But they follow a name."


    Kai let that sink in.


    The conversation at the other table shifted to taxes and merchant routes, but Kai barely heard it. His world had been small—survive, fight, get stronger. But if what Old Bo said was true, strength alone wasn’t enough.


    He had to be seen.


    And an arena?


    That was a stage.