Avaria dropped into a forward roll, narrowly dodging the second stroke of his ax as he utilized his new advantage. The moment she regained her footing, she brought her now-empty hands up defensively, as they were her only hope of guarding against his next attack. She couldn't easily see where her weapon had landed. Her only hope now was to wrench the ax from his grasp.

Another crack split the air, this time bringing heavy pellets of rain with it. She couldn't see, but she charged full force at the spot that Korbak had last occupied and was rewarded when her shoulder met the rough material covering his abdomen.

His arms flailed dangerously as the pair fell, sending the blade of the ax-head slicing across her back and ribs. A mighty howl of pain tore from her throat, yet somehow, she scarcely noticed it. 

The world seemed to still for a moment as she landed atop him. She could almost feel each drop of cool rain that tapped against her flesh, carrying away her fresh blood in its wake. She snapped out of it almost instantly, then quickly shimmered far enough up his body to put her shin over his wrist to render his hand and the weapon it held useless. She didn't even think before she moved next, the pain shoving her body into an almost animalistic self-defense mode.

She was aware that her arm was now wrapped firmly around her opponent's neck, but she didn't remember putting it there.

He was choking. 

“Yield!” She hissed in his ear, her breathing becoming labored as war erupted in her head all at once. 

His free hand suddenly connected with her ribs. It was a mighty blow, but a vain defense, her expert hold was tight. 

“Yield!” She was louder this time, desperation sharpening her tone.

She was so close to the possibility of leaving this place behind. Korbak would kill her if the situation were reversed. He didn't feel anything towards her that would stop him, and she didn't think much of him either. 

His blows stopped; he started to relax. In a few seconds, it could be over, and she would have won. Her heart was throbbing so hard she felt like it had consumed her entire chest. She was so angry at Korbak for forcing her to make this decision and at the Oversight for arranging it. A reasonable, moral thought she had so valiantly resisted soared to the front of her mind, loosening her hold. 

She wasn't Korbak. She was better than him; she wasn't a savage.

“I concede.” She spoke softly, dismay shushing her tone.

She was on her feet in an instant, her heart sinking to her ankles with betrayal at her own words. Korbak was still alive. 

It was tricky, but she managed to feel disappointment and relief at once. Color quickly revitalized his shocked, almost insulted-looking face. He clumsily propped himself up to his hands, wobbly attempting to stand. Avaria could only glare at him. A sizable part of her was already regretting the life-changing decision she'd just made. 

Yet, despite her dread of the fate she had surrendered herself to, somewhere deep down, a strand of pride ran through her being. She'd refused to kill another of her own kind, rejecting nonsensical savagery. Even though she would forever be a member of the Marred, she more closely resembled the logical, proud Chorlak race than she ever had before.

Fury darkened her opponent's face. The snarl across his lips was so pronounced she could almost count his teeth. Only he could manage to be so thoroughly provoked by mercy.

“Coward,” he hissed, his scratchy voice barely audible over his panting. 

She stooped to collect her weapon from where it had landed, mud jamming under her fingernails as she wrapped her hand around the hilt. She turned away, prepared to leave the nightmare behind her. The crowd parted immediately in the wake of her intimidatingly set jaw, and she was sure her face must look murderous.

A terrible zap made her ears ring instantly as lightning struck something far behind her, but despite rendering her temporarily deaf, the storm had likely just saved her life. With her back to it, she could see the long shadows that the bright flash cast. Alerted by them, she whirled about on her heel, sword poised to defend against the attacker that must stand at the head of the shadow she caught approaching hers- but the attack never came. 

She stared at Korbak's face, inches from her own, as shock widened his features. It took her a moment to understand the cause of his halt. The tension in her body went slack as she realized what she'd done. A rude whirlwind of emotions exploded simultaneously into her mind, each taking precedence for only a second before receding to make way for the next. For a few moments, she felt like they were frozen in time, and their startled gazes would remain locked onto each other for the rest of eternity. 

It ended as she hesitantly released the hilt of her weapon. It was only then that she registered the liquid warmth that covered her hand. He stumbled unsteadily for a few moments, as though he'd suddenly become top-heavy. She maintained eye contact until he fell from her field of vision, collapsing onto the ground with a resolute 'thud.' The horrible sound echoed through her mind as she trained her eyes on the far wall, unwilling to observe her fellow Marred lying dead with her sword through his chest. 

“We have a winner!” Zileca was cheerful.

Avaria couldn't stand the sound of her voice. At that moment, she became sure she hated everything about the callous woman. Her venomous smile. The lies Avaria sensed lingering behind it. Despite the woman's ambiguous display, there was something dark in her soul. 

Still, the words snapped her out of her reverie, and she pulled her shock-parted lips back together. Utilizing her newly regained motor skills, she fixed her features rigidly into a more natural position, although they were likely more tense than strictly necessary. She turned her back on the scene before her without ever really examining it, pursing her lips to resist the new wave of emotions she sensed approaching. 

Zileca was at her side quickly, her too big to be real smile unaltered by the harsh expression it was met with. The woman grabbed Avaria's wrist and held her arm up in triumph, seemingly trying to conjure up some sort of superficial excitement into the atmosphere. There was no cheer, of course. Each viewer had wanted to be the one in her place. They weren't happy for her, and they weren't impressed, only accepting.

When Zileca told her to be ready for the transport that would arrive the following morning, Avaria nodded respectfully. 

She didn't exactly feel guilty that she'd killed Korbak, she didn't mean to, and she hadn't had a choice. It was his own fault. What she felt was more like shame. She was ashamed of herself for participating in the bloodbath. The Chorlak prided their sense of honor and dignity, and she had lost it in the midst of this primal display. The Oversight wouldn't arrange for any Chorlak, even the Marred, to participate in something so disgraceful; she felt it in her bones. Something else was at play here, and she dreaded finding out what it was.

*

She'd stood in the middle of the courtyard for a long time, even after all of the others had cleared out. She never looked at Korbak's body, and she had no desire to. At some point, the grumpy medic had tugged her inside and stitched the skin on her back together before giving her a new torso wrap. It was no different than the one she had before, but it wasn't torn to shreds.

'Gather your possessions,' Zileca had told her perkily, moments after the fight's end.

That is what Avaria would be doing now if she owned anything beyond the clothes she currently wore and the collapsible dagger she never returned. Instead, she stood in the corner of her cell over a tub of water, scrubbing her garments as if they'd personally insulted her. 

Korbak's death was his own fault, she reminded herself again, her rubbed-raw fingers clenching at the fresh memory. The 'thud' that had marked the end of his life whirled around her head like a vengeful tornado, not exactly significant by itself but serving to remind her of the others she had lost with a similar sound. 

Further provoking her wrath was the question of whether she would have helped them if she could. She'd truly loved her father and mother, of course, but Jabic and Korbak were different. Somehow, she felt guilty for letting them die, but she didn't miss them. She should be proud of the detachment; it was the way of the Chorlak. The worth of a life was weighed by how much an individual enhanced their race, and at the end of the day, the Marred only took up space. They had no place; they were the pieces that didn't fit.

Why did she feel so ashamed that the part of her capable of seeing beauty in the world and worth in other lives had been suffocated? She knew her parents hadn't wanted her to become this person, but then again, their worldview hadn't done them any good. They were dead, and she had been banished to pay for their rebellion against the algorithm. If she were really integrated into Chorlak society, she would be expected to behave more like they did. 

She had altered herself once before when she first arrived at the facility. She could do it again. In many ways, she was already close. Her worldview had developed into something quite logical; rarely did her emotions taint her ability to find the best path to the preferred outcome. Whether or not she always took her advice, well... that was something that she would have to work on. Knowing the correct Chorlak action to take and actually executing it didn't always go hand in hand. But she could do it; that is what would be expected of her. 

The Marred didn't appreciate her easy-going, looking-for-a-good-time attitude, and she doubted that Chorlak society would either, but it had helped her to keep her sanity and, often, her quick wit benefitted her by keeping others off balance. It was a useful tool, and it was a small part of her child self that had been spared when she was forced to reinvent herself. 

Perhaps the display was something of a facade now. She knew it couldn't come from her optimistic nature like it once had; she had changed too much since then. Whatever it was, she didn't know if she would be able to stifle that part of herself and become a stiff-necked, no-nonsense Chorlak. She always longed for integration, even when it seemed unattainable, but now that it was here, she wasn't sure she wanted to be just like them.

She growled loudly when tiny drops of blood finally prickled from her hands as though tiny needles had emerged from the rough weaving of her torso wrap. She abandoned her long ago completed task and hung her clothes up to dry before going to bed. The light, no longer sensing movement, flickered a few times before fading away in a manner far too peaceful to accommodate her current mood. 

She barely knew who she was anymore, the one shred of certainty that had been her lifeline all this time was that, banished or not, she was a Chorlak, and she behaved with the pride and dignity of one. 

She had almost been able to feel that identity drain from her soul the moment she'd heard Korbak fall. Her actions had been no different than those of a rabid Skarm put in the same situation. The stocky, feline animals were known for fighting to the death regularly. Some even thought that the Ancients had adopted their method of election from them.

Maybe her reservations about Zileca and the trial were entirely wrong, and she would indeed be integrated into society tomorrow. It didn't matter now. She doubted she could ever look into the mirror again without staring into the eyes of a savage. 

She slipped rather abruptly into darkness, her body too exhausted and achy to allow her mind to continue tormenting her. Yet somehow, even in sleep, her expression was no more peaceful than the face of someone who'd just received a death sentence.