As Hope breathed a sigh of relief, thinking they’d finally found a break from the push of relentless enemies, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered her confidence. More of the King's soldiers emerged from the shadows of the surrounding streets, their presence a chilling reminder they were on enemy ground.
Just as despair threatened to consume her, the book against her back came alive once more, filling her with an inexplicable urge. It was as if a commanding force surged through her spirit, urging her to move. With a heavy heart and a resolute determination, Hope made the tough decision to leave her comrades behind, locked in their fierce battle against the relentless Branside soldiers. The book's guidance compelled her to run.
So, she ran through the coliseum’s doors as fast as she could.
Navigating through the winding halls, she raced past dimly lit corridors and closed doors, her senses heightened by the inexplicable force at her back. Her heart pounded in her chest as she ascended stairs, her footsteps echoing through the empty passageways. Finally, she caught sight of an open door, and the warm glow from the sun offering her a guiding light out of the perilous labyrinth.
As Hope ran out into the sunlight, she realised she ran between the aisles of spectators. All around her, the air crackled with anticipation. A deep voice bellowed, reverberating through the coliseum.
“Are you ready?”
Hope looked up and spotted the source of the voice. A master of ceremonies garbed in flowing red and gold garments stood theatrically on a large stone podium on the opposite side of the arena. The audience erupted into a symphony of cheers, their collective excitement reverberating off the walls.
A sea of faces filled the stands, their eyes shining with a mix of enthusiasm and wonder. The crowd, a vibrant tapestry of affluent individuals, gathered from the nobility of Branside, drawn by the allure of an ultimate battle. They’d come to witness the clash of giants, the ultimate showdown between good and evil. The King versus the White Dragon.
Cheers swelled as the master of ceremonies’ commanding presence waved from the podium.
“Welcome ladies and gentlemen!” His voice, amplified by the acoustics, carried his words to every inch of the structure, filling the hearts of those present with excitement. “It is time!”
A collective hush fell over the crowd, their attention firmly fixed on the unfolding display.
With a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, the master took a moment to soak in the atmosphere and survey the sea of expectant faces. “I give you the White Dragon!”
With a flourish, he gestured towards the floor. In response, colossal doors on the opposite end of the arena swung open with a clinking of chains, unleashing a swirling cloud of sand that billowed into the air.
As the sand settled, a hulking figure emerged, rising from the depths of the pit floor. The crowd's initial excitement quickly turned to a chorus of boos and jeers as the beast revealed itself. A white, imposing creature stood before them, its massive frame adorned with fearsome horns, razor-sharp claws, and broken wings. A large iron collar fastened to its neck gave the monstrous beast an almost sorrowful presence.
Hope, a lone figure amidst the sea of excited spectators, felt a shiver run down her spine at the sight of the formidable beast. Her heart sank, momentarily overshadowed by a wave of doubt. The crowd's disapproval only added to her apprehension, amplifying her anxiety.
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Yet, amidst the negative energy that permeated the arena, Hope felt the presence of the book. With a guiding warmth, it helped summon her inner resolve. She straightened her posture, drawing on her strength and determination.
"The moment has arrived, dear members of our illustrious union," proclaimed the master of ceremonies. "Behold, the legendary Theatre of the Great White Dragon!”
A blast of a horn rang, capturing everyone's attention. From the depths of the stage emerged a group of formidable warriors, clad in heavy iron armour and wielding menacing weapons.
“Here stands the Army of Peace!”
Expecting an imminent charge towards the chained beast, Hope braced herself, only to witness a surprising turn of event.
A cage appeared from below and a large bovine creature emerged from the iron bars.
Instead of advancing upon the chained white beast, the armed men swiftly organised themselves into a disciplined formation, their weapons now directed towards the large bovine below. She almost flinched when she recognised the Mountain Bison. Hope's heart sank, sympathy welling within her for the unfortunate creature trapped in the cruel spectacle.
"And here stands the White Dragon, defying Peace itself," the master of ceremonies declared, his voice dripping with contempt. "He desires nothing but destruction, death, and decay. But fear not, for here stand the armies of peace, ready to confront the tyranny and the minions of this pale beast!”
Without delay, the armoured men descended upon the Mountain Bison with ruthless intent. Their blades pierced its thick hide, eliciting an eruption of crimson-hot blood that painted the floor red. The majestic creature, without even a chance to defend itself, succumbed to the relentless onslaught, collapsing onto the sandy floor.
In an act of cruelty, the Army of Peace wasted no time, their hunger clear as they tore into the dying creature, ripping chunks of flesh and skin with bare hands. The bison's severed legs twitched weakly, a futile attempt to escape the clutches of death. The men feasted voraciously, smearing blood and entrails across their leather tunics, their grim faces smattered with the remnants of their gruesome meal.
Hope felt nothing but revulsion as she witnessed their deeds.
They circled the fallen beast, a macabre ritual that revelled in savagery and dominance.
With a swift, decisive thrust, one of the fighters plunged a long weapon through the cow's heart, instantly extinguishing its feeble movements. The crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers and frenzied applause. The sight of blood ignited an insatiable frenzy within them.
"Glorious battle!" the master proclaimed, his words lost in the fervour. The crowd paid no heed to the lack of coherence; they revelled in the spectacle, their frenzy intensifying as the footmen prepared to face new adversaries. A hulking pigman became the next target, his endurance proving greater than that of the fallen bison. It took the combined effort of five fighters to bring him down.
As the performance continued to play out, more beasts were added to the sandy floor.
Some charged forward with fury, while others fled in a desperate bid for survival. The group of men swiftly divided into two factions—a larger defensive force holding their ground, and a smaller contingent giving chase to the fleeing creatures.
The clash between the beasts and the Army of Peace was a collision of steel against horn, talons, fangs, and tough hides. In mid-flight, the animals met their demise, their bodies felled by the swift strokes of the men. The smaller group regrouped with their comrades, joining forces in their relentless pursuit. Amidst the chaos, the White Dragon was chained motionless, seemingly invisible to the torment and mayhem surrounding him.
The final creature, a long-necked lizard beast, succumbed to the same fate as its fallen allies, its limbs collapsing with a sickening squelch. The crowd erupted in applause and laughter, their excitement giving way to an eerie stillness.
"The beasts have been vanquished, but their commander of chaos remains. Who shall emerge victorious today?" boomed the voice over the arena. The men, drenched in the blood of their fallen foes moved out of view, victorious in their execution.
"Look and witness the beast! Look how he cowers there!" the announcer exclaimed and laughed with the crowd. “Now join hands with me as we welcome our king!”