Atilius emerged from the dark tunnel that lead to the arena. The only thing he could hear over the enormous roar of the crowd was the sensation his heartbeat pounding against his ears. The lights of the arena shone cast a blinding light in his eyes, which stung from sweat.

Through the light, he could still make out the hulking silhouette of his opponent, standing and awaiting his approach. The long road of misfortune Atilius walked on for the last year had lead him to this moment. There was no way back, no route to escape, no words that would settle that which only violence could determine. 

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Now it was kill or be killed.

Atilius steeled himself, clenching his fists tight. It was not fear of death he carried in his heart, nor the thrill of ecstasy at the chance to become warrior of renown, but only the hope to live another day, and perhaps return to his family once again. Walking towards his opponent, Atilius felt the dirt under his bare feet as the crowd erupted once again, all eager to witness the carnage to follow. The stage set upon the theatre of death.