The colosseum was heated up with fervor. The common people were divided as usual; some eager to watch the show, some with undisguised disgust, and some who didn’t care either ways.

It was Ferasi law that all citizens were to attend the colosseum for a performance every festival. Today was the Talhut festival, celebration of the Talhut, a blood elf researcher whose breakthrough extended the life expectancy of blood elves.

And like every other law in Ferasi, this one mainly needed to be obeyed by the common people. The nobles weren’t concerned with defying this law, neither were there any consequences. However, the right which seated the nobles was fairly full.

Luken smiled and thought to himself, ‘As expected’.

Blood elves had a particular longing towards blood, that they couldn’t resist; non-animal blood. It wasn’t just the taste but the energy it contained.

Like all elves they has diamonds on their forehead but their diamonds were red as they were filled up with blood and a barely functioning mana channel. They were just born like that. Blood elves were also born with crooked Ki paths so they couldn’t cultivate Ki.

Luken understood their sentiment, after all he was a blood elf himself. Well half-blood elf. Even though he still had that urge for blood. A glance at his reflection in the glass pane showed his almost perfectly chiseled face. He had deep green eyes and long red hair adorned with the famous gray strand.

His reflection make him scoff. His beauty was the only reason he was still alive after all. As a semi, life was always hard. You were either a slave or a servant. Or a living puppet.

He was definitely a living puppet, only saying what was told or doing what was asked. He glanced to the right to see excited noblewomen obviously discussing him and sighed.

Luken was a colosseum decoration. Eye-candy. Attraction. At least he wasn’t a sex slave. Yet. They paid for his body so it was a job per se. He was also the voice of the colosseum. He was definitely doing much better that his counter parts.

Sometimes he wondered why people kept making more semis. A semi could not reproduce and they were scorned. As to why that was, it was said that holy essence fled in the presence of a semi, and that obviously meant rejection from the gods.

One couldn’t hide they were a semi. Maybe if you looked very much like one race you could hide it for a minute or so. The permanent gray hair always gave it away. Any semi always had locks of their front hair gray and some in their back.

It could not be dyed and if it was cut off it grew back. If you wore a wig, it would fuse with the wig turning the corresponding location of it grey till you took it off. It was obviously magical.

Researchers had studied this phenomenon for years and found nothing. So this rejected parts of society were forever bound to be rejects.

Luken noticed his thoughts were wandering and reined them in. He has just announced the savage who was to fight and the audience was waiting in anticipation for the man’s arrival. Once again, his eyes flickered to scan the common people. Although they tried not to, they all wanted to see some blood spilled today.

Luken smirked as a funny thought passed through his head. If his life was dependent on the common people loving his appearance he would live longer. Nobles were always fickle and he was sure those noble ladies would soon get tired of his beauty and when that happens his life would be forfeit.

Not because the noble ladies wanted him dead but as most of his time was spent in the colosseum, he had come to know many secrets. Secrets that if spread would collapse the kingdom and cause war with other countries.

It was a speculation that blood elves dine on the blood of intellectual beings. Residing in the populace would tell you they only took animal blood for nourishment – a lie that only the common people believed.

Once again, Luken has to reign in his wandering thoughts as the gate had opened revealing a small boy with ebony hair. The wind blew revealing his confident expression and his eyes held no fear.

Luken scanned him with his mana sense and furrowed his brow. The boy’s attitude was a complete bluff. The boy was only a rank 27 fighter. His mage rank was close to nil; just 5. He probably didn’t know any spells; even if he did, he couldn’t cast them. The Seratin mastiff on the other hand was a … oh. It had gone through a major breakthrough.

‘Impressive’, Luken couldn’t help but think. The mastiff had been at rank 60 for 5 years. It was now a rank 61 fighter. The chances of the boy winning was less than 1 percent. He couldn’t help but sigh.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

A beep sounded next to him signifying the arrival of his script. Luken tapped the voice amplifier and it flickered on. He began to read in his most expressive voice, “This is our second encounter with the savage, Mavah!”

A loud cheer from the audience enunciated his words. He laughed into the mic and continued reading, “Many remember his previous battle where he showed his battle dominance, ripping the heart out of this roommate…! Oops. Former roommate”

A hearty laugher followed. ‘How was that funny?’ Luken wanted to ask but waited for the laughter to die down. “Now then, shall we witness his prowess in battle once again?!” ripple of discussion followed that question, “Or will he be another food to the mastiff?!”

To that many thunderous roars and claps followed. They were obviously excited, showing that Luken’s job was almost done.

“Let the show begin!” he roared and leaned back into his seat. He reached out and tapped the voice amplifier and it flickered off; the voice amplifying crystal was obviously old with all the flickering.

Luken suddenly felt dizzy and choked up. He cursed his elven blood for the xth time and reached out for the bottle of red liquid on the floor. Opening the bottle, the thick smell of blood filled the air and Luken immediately took 2 big gulps draining it halfway. He seemed much better now and placed the bottle back down then he leaned back again to watch the ‘show’.

***

Mavah looked up at the huge beast some distance away. He waited patiently for ‘the voice’ to finish its revolting speech and the moment the word ‘begin’ was said, the still mastiff moved.

Mavah could barely see where it went before he felt pain it his abdomen and found himself flying backwards.

Mavah tried to reposition himself to cushion his fall but he felt a shadow over him and immediately raised his daggers to block the ferocious claws.

The blow sent him flying again and he was soon on his back in the mastiff’s previous position. He tried to stand up but his bones creaked in protest.

The deafening noise from the audience was not helping to say the least. The mastiff was walking towards him. It was obviously playing with its food.

Mavah sighed inwardly. He already knew the outcome of this battle. There was no way he could win against a rank 60 mastiff. He didn’t know it had gone through a major breakthrough either.

Gritting his teeth, he charged towards the mastiff, spitting out the blood that had formed in his mouth.

‘If I am going to do this, I have to it right’, he thought.

***

Agnes gasped as the boy charged towards the beast. Even someone like her with no battle experience could tell he was not going to be able to do anything.

Sarai’s humming suddenly increased in pitch making Agnes tear her eyes away from the battle. The older girl was no longer hugging her knees. She was watching quietly with a sad smile on her face.

Noticing Agnes’ sight on her, she stopped humming and spoke, “That’s my brother”

Agnes wasn’t really surprised. It was easy to guess they had some kind of relationship. She turned her eyes back to the scene and Sarai began to hum again.

Agnes’ eyes widened at the scene in front on her. The mastiff was injured on its back and legs while the boy bled from his eyes, nose, mouth and ears. A few seconds away and the situation had changed.

The boy seemed worse off at a first glance but something was wrong with the mastiff. A Seratin mastiff’s self-healing was almost as good as a troll’s. But the beast was not healing up.

Mavah moved again with speed much greater than his previous old and this time the mastiff didn’t wait for him to come. It charged at him. With speeds faster than Agnes’ eyes could follow, they sought to injure each other.

Agnes could only hear the collision of metal and claw. The mastiff suddenly drew back and its claws glowed red.

Shocked gasps were heard throughout the common populace then excited cries followed. Agnes guessed it was using some sort of special skill but she was wrong.

The mastiff could manifest Ki, an ability all fighters that have gone through a major breakthrough have.

Mavah’s eyes widened at this revelation. He suddenly laughed wildly and began to chant, “*$^%#&@#% ^&&$#$ %#^#%, lightning burst. Die!”

Agnes found herself unable to understand the words of the spell he was saying but she instinctually knew he couldn’t survive this match. She bit her lips till it bled and kept watching.

Maybe it was because Mavah was the first colosseum match she had ever seen but she found it difficult to turn away.

Mavah seemed to disappear and appear before the mastiff. His dagger found its way into the mastiff’s eyes but not before his lower half was separated from the rest of his body by the mastiff’s claw.

The energy in the colosseum seemed to reach an even higher peak with his death. The mastiff had retreated in pain and the healers came to help heal it.

The mastiff shook the healers off once they took the dagger out and moved to stand proudly over its kill.

Applause and cheers from the audience were numerous for this beast. Then it fell over. Dead.

Sudden silence enveloped the area.

Luken was dumbfounded at the sudden turn of event. He couldn’t help smiling, imagining Marshall’s angry face as he forked out money to buy another Seratin mastiff.

Agnes was holding her mouth, trying her very hardest not to throw up, ‘It will take some time to get used to this’

Sarai had stopped humming when Mavah has fallen and had proceeded to cry quietly. The eight year old child went on to softly tap her head as though consoling her.

Agnes was startled at his movement as she has forgotten the little boy was there. ‘Little’ as in size, he was older than her. She wanted to console the older lady too but ended up just staying where she was and before she knew it she has teared up.

A loud trumpet boomed through the colosseum startling any who were asleep awake. Apparently, there were some who slept with the noise of the audience.

The trumpet seemed like it was announcing something. Sarai immediately wiped her tears at this sound and grabbed the Agnes startling her.

“What…,” Agnes wanted to ask, surprised at the sudden movement.

“We gotta go. NOW”, Sarai bellowed, interrupting her.

She pulled on the boy with her other hand and proceeded to bolt out of the tunnel pulling on the two like bags of air.

Agnes found herself out of the tunnel and back in that tiny hallway. Her brain had not fully caught up with the sudden change in scenery and she released herself from Sarai hold.

“Why did we leave all of a sudden?” she felt compelled to ask. Terrible or not, the colosseum was where she was going to be in for a while and that was a good opportunity to learn more.

“That was the trumpet announcing the King. The moment we are noticed in that tunnel is the moment we die”, she replied crisply letting down the boy in her arm, “If you would excuse me, I have business to do. Find your way back”

She immediately dashed away leaving the two in awkward silence.

“Hello. I don’t think I ever introduced myself. My name is Harvy”

Agnes turned to him, ready to reply but the words never came out of her mouth.

The tunnel was dark so this was the first time she ever seen his face. He wasn’t extremely handsome or extremely ugly.

But his eyes were breathtaking. They were like jewels that gleamed with the slightest input of light.

The hazel eye that she saw were simply just beautiful.