Savior

Draco saw that the man was growing increasingly frustrated. He was unable to suffocate the white-haired woman, so he was justifiably angry. 

As Draco slid out of the bloody murk, the enraged man didn't even notice Draco's bloody form rising from behind him. 

Draco was completely covered from head to toe in blood and grime that dripped off of his clothes onto the stone below. He looked like some sort of Demonic creature. 

In this way he left a trail of blood as he quietly approached the man. 

However, just when he got within striking distance the man seemed to have sensed Draco's movements and snapped his head towards him! 

Unfortunately for the sadistic man, Draco was already poised to strike. 

Draco sent out a sharp kick towards the man's spine, not willing to risk injuring his only good hand. 

The kick connected, and with a crunch the man was sent flying off of the nude woman below him. 

The man's baggy white clothes fluttered with the force of the kick, and he flew several feet towards a pillar in the distance. 

Just as he was about to make contact with the pillar though, he twisted his body and placed his feet between himself and the pillar. 

In an impressive display of acrobatics, the man bounded off of the stone pillar like a springboard, heading straight towards Draco's position!

Draco cursed to himself, now certain. 

'This man is certainly no ordinary Ḥāmin soldier, disgraced or not, this guy is dangerous.' he thought, grimly. 

Draco braced himself, seeing the man fly towards him at rapid speed. The Ḥāmin was seemingly undamaged by Draco's high-powered kick, this let Draco know he was in for a tough fight. 

Unknown to Draco, as he was squaring off in this life-or-death battle, the white-haired woman was watching from below them. 

Still on the ground, the woman thought to herself, 'He came to save me… Maybe he's not a bad guy after all.'

The woman would surely slap herself in embarrassment if she knew the truth of the matter. 

She watched as the two men collided in a frenzy of punches and kicks. She saw the white-robed figure duck under a kick and send out a punch towards Draco's side, and then watched with amazement as Draco twisted out of the way. 

Draco leaped out of the Ḥāmin's range, watching his movements with a predator's eyes. 

'Such gracefulness.' The woman thought to herself with awe. 

However, as the fight continued, she seemed to notice something.

The fight started out in Draco's favor, but he seemed to be getting slowly pushed back. The Ḥāmin was now able to land an occasional hit on Draco, and the woman watched with dismay as Draco was pushed back towards the edge of the pillar they were standing on. 

This was inevitable, for Draco was unable to fight with his full strength. The woman didn't know this, but Draco had completely destroyed his hand attempting to punch her earlier. 

This handicap was a brutal one, and it put Draco on the defensive.

Draco was now only a foot away from the edge, and with every exchange of strikes he inched ever closer towards the turbulent waters below. 

The woman sucked in a bated breath, looking away. She did not want to see her savior fall in such a way.

However, after a moment passed, she heard a pained grunt. 

Unable to avert her eyes, she peeked a glance upwards, and was shocked by what she saw. 

Miraculously, Draco was now holding the white-robed man's arm! 

The Ḥāmin's arm was being held firmly in place beneath Draco's armpit, and his good hand was wrapped around the Ḥāmin's neck with a tight grip.

The veins in Draco's hand bulged with the effort, and even as the Ḥāmin kicked at Draco's body and punched at him with his free arm he was unable to escape Draco's hold. 

Draco grunted with each hit that landed on him, and blood began to leak out of his mouth as his organs shook from the blows. 

Although the pain made his body quiver, it was nothing like the pain he faced when fighting Samir. 

Draco steeled his resolve and continued to squeeze the man's neck, and eventually the Ḥāmin realized he was not going to be able to escape this position. 

Fear entered the man's eyes, and he began to pound at Draco with increased fervor. He was unable to keep this up for long though, and his movements began to slow down. 

Suddenly a loud crack could be heard above the sounds of the crashing waves below.

The white robed man's arms fell limply to his sides, and Draco promptly tossed the Ḥāmin into the bloody waters below like a piece of discarded trash. 

Draco then fell to his knees, coughing up a large glob of blood that splattered onto the stone below him. 

Seeing Draco's now unconscious form the white-haired woman sat up from her position and crawled over to Draco, laying an inordinately hard hand onto his face. 

"Rest now.. My savior." she whispered to Draco, looking at him fondly. 

As the woman did this, a robotic voice sounded off in the distance above them. 

"SUBJECT # 1 - 1 - 2 VICTORY." it said in a staticky voice. 

*** 

Watching all of this unfold was Mr. Williams, the British man who had previously taken a liken to Draco. 

He shook his head in disappointment, but didn't seem too upset. 

'My sponsorship in this lad was not unfounded. He fights with a ferocity that can compete with even superior skill. He was unable to secure victory against #112, but that cannot be helped. That girl is a freak of nature, and her innate constitution has secured her victory in every single one of her matches.' he thought to himself. 

Mr. Williams knew that Draco would be unable to best the woman's defensive capabilities, so he hadn't even bothered betting on him in this match. 

It was simply an unfair match-up. 

Whenever #112 was entered into a match the pay-outs were always low, this was because anyone with even half of a brain cell betted on them. 

Draco might've been able to eliminate them early on in the match through sheer luck, but his decision to use them as bait was ultimately the correct one. 

'#227 is cunning and strong, he will make it far in the Ahmar Cage.' he thought, now leaving the sealed spectator area.

He made his way down a pristine white hallway, and got into an elevator. 

"Now it's time to see these medical costs." he grumbled, telling himself that this was an investment in his prized horse. 

*** 

Draco awoke inside of his cell with a start. 

He was once again completely naked, and when he looked at the door of his cell he saw a neatly folded pile of clothes in front of it. 

"I guess I have to get used to waking up naked." he laughed to himself, dismayed. 

Draco checked himself over, but wasn't surprised to see all of his injuries had been healed. He had already experienced the Dynasty's astounding medical technologies. 

He flexed his hand, marveling at how he could now move it. 

Smirking to himself, he thought, 'This place is undeniably hell, but the strongest blades are forged in the hottest fires.' 

Draco realized that if he was going to be stuck here he might as well take advantage of the situation to become as strong as possible. 

'As long as I don't die I'll be healed and able to enter battle once again.' he thought, resolving himself to not becoming a casualty. 

He recalled his previous fight, and remembered the expert way that the Ḥāmin had fought.

'He was surely stronger than the average Ḥāmin soldier, but luckily even he had weaknesses I could use to defeat him.' Draco remarked, glad to have made it out of that hellish place.

'The man had on clothing as well, I guess if you win your first battle you get to keep your clothes.' he guessed, not fully certain.

An image of white hair flashed past his eyes, and Draco wondered why they were naked.

'Perhaps it was their first battle.' Draco surmised, not knowing how wrong his assumption was. 

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Draco sat up from his bed and walked towards the window at the side of his room. 

Looking at the rows upon rows of cells that lined the landscape, Draco just hoped that he would one day be able to leave this place in one piece.