Luna Secret 4

The dungeon doors creaked open with a loud groan, sending echoes down the dimly lit corridor.

Ace squinted against the sudden flood of light, her wrists and ankles bound in thick, rusted chains. She barely had a moment to steady herself before two guards yanked her forward. The metal bit into her skin, but she didn’t flinch. She had endured worse.

“Move,” one of the guards barked, shoving her ahead.

Ace stumbled but caught herself, keeping her back straight and her chin up. She had been raised to be strong—to never show weakness, no matter the circumstances.

They led her through a narrow tunnel, the damp air gradually giving way to warmth. A few more steps, and suddenly, sunlight exploded around her. She winced, squeezing her eyes shut before blinking rapidly to adjust.

When her vision cleared, she found herself in a vast open field. The ground beneath her was sandy, uneven.

Towering wooden stands encircled the battlefield, filled with spectators—men and women alike. Anticipation filled the air.

Ace’s gaze swept the arena and landed on Rowan, seated on a high platform. Their eyes met, and she forced herself to remain composed. Her disguise had held back in her pack, but here, surrounded by enemies, a single misstep could shatter it.

She was playing a dangerous game.

The guards pushed her down, and she sank to her knees, feeling the coarse dirt against her skin.

Rowan leaned forward, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yesterday, you claimed you could take down five men at once. Was that a lie?”

Ace met his gaze evenly. “No,” she said, her voice unwavering.

Rowan raised a brow. “Then prove it.”

He flicked his fingers, and the gates on the far side of the field groaned open. Five men stepped out, their faces hardened with years of battle. Their muscles rippled under the weight of their chains, their eyes filled with barely restrained aggression.

Ace almost smiled.

These were the men Rowan had chosen?

She had faced far worse in training. Her father had made sure of it.

The chains around her wrists and ankles were unlocked with a loud clank. Ace rolled her shoulders, flexing her fingers as she took a step forward. The crowd roared in excitement, eager for blood.

The five men didn’t hesitate. They charged at her, each from a different direction.

Ace moved like a shadow.

She sidestepped the first attacker, her elbow slamming into his ribs before spinning and delivering a sharp kick to the second man’s groin. He crumpled to the ground with a strangled cry.

The remaining three surrounded her, fists raised.

The first one swung. She ducked, catching his wrist and twisting it sharply. A sickening pop echoed through the arena, followed by a howl of pain. She shoved him away, pivoting just in time to block the second attacker’s strike.

Her knee shot up, connecting with his stomach. He staggered back, gasping.

The third man hesitated for just a second. It was enough.

Ace leaped, flipping over him and landing behind him. Before he could react, she grabbed his shoulders and slammed him face-first into the dirt.

The arena erupted with cheers.

Ace straightened, shaking the dust from her hands. The five men lay groaning around her, some unconscious, others writhing in pain.

Rowan’s amusement was evident. “Not bad.”

The second gate opened. Three more men stepped out—larger, armed, and far more dangerous. Ace’s heartbeat quickened, but she remained still. She had trained for this. She could win this.

A sword flew through the air toward her. Instinctively, she reached out, catching it mid-spin. The crowd gasped. Ace didn’t waste time. She took a defensive stance, her grip firm on the hilt.

The first opponent lunged. Their blades clashed in a blur of silver. Ace sidestepped, using her smaller frame to her advantage, ducking under his swings and countering with precise strikes. Within minutes, she had disarmed him, her sword slicing across his chest. He dropped with a groan.

The second man was smarter. He tested her defenses, waiting for an opening. Ace didn’t give him one. She moved swiftly, her sword a seamless extension of her body. She blocked his attacks with ease, reading his movements before he could execute them.

With a swift feint to the left, she redirected his sword downward, twisted his wrist, and sent his weapon clattering to the ground.

Before he could recover, she struck. Blood splattered the sand. He fell. Only one remained.

He was the strongest, she could tell.

Ace shifted her stance, circling him carefully.

The man smirked. “You fight well… for a runt.”

Ace didn’t respond.

He attacked first, his strikes powerful and relentless. Ace dodged, parried, and countered, but he was fast. Strong. Skilled.

She needed an opening, and then she saw it. When he swung for her midsection, she let him believe he had an advantage. She stumbled back, feigning weakness, and the moment he stepped forward to press his attack, she struck.

Her sword knocked his from his grip. Before he could react, she ducked, sweeping his legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard, and Ace didn’t hesitate.

She pressed the tip of her blade to his throat.

Silence filled the arena.

Rowan’s eyes gleamed with something unreadable. Then, slowly, he clapped again.

Ace lowered her sword, stepping back as the defeated warriors struggled to rise.