The first day of the tournament begins with the blare of a horn and screams of the crowd. Two hundred men rush into the sandy battlefield, only to find their legs falling into a good foot of sand, greatly restricting and slowing their movements. The smart ones realize their predicament and slow down to conserve stamina. The battle has only just begun after all.
But many, especially those who are new and unfamiliar with how these arena’s operate- continue to rush towards the center. They know that it’s a trap and that the first to reach the summit will be the most exhausted unless they have some skill to conserve stamina or traverse the terrain easier. This is unlikely to be true, for such skills are rarely obtained from levels below twenty-five.
Gino is one of the smart ones who slows his pace to something manageable. He glances about, noticing a nearby shortsword. Not a dagger, of which he is skilled in, but close enough. As he reaches it and grabs the hilt, a grimaces lines his mouth.
“Good thing I prefer to stab.” He whispers to himself. The edge is rusty and blunt- more hammer than sword. But the tip looks usable so long as he applies a bit more force.
His thoughts are then quickly interrupted by a sound of rushing water. He glances behind him and finds that it has begun. Water rushing from the outskirts of the stadium and rapidly drenching the sand. If he doesn’t pick up the pace, the water will get him far before anyone else.
Grunting, he continues striding towards the center. As he does, he notices something unusual. The sand is becoming firmer and firmer, allowing for better footing. Then his thoughts transition to the sounds of screams, the clanking of blades, and the roars of the audience. The fighting has just begun.
Firmly gripping his shortsword, Gino glances about for threats, and just barely waves away from a hammer aimed at his head.
The [Gladiator] tsks in annoyance that he was noticed. “Could've made this a lot simpler.” The man says while walking forward. The man swings again, but Gino is prepared. He weaves to the side and stabs forward. The man intercept with the hilt of his hammer, pushing the blade to the side. He goes for another swing, but Gino dodges with a roll. As he rushes back to his feet, he hears the rustling of sand behind him. Instinct takes over and he jumps to the side. A handaxe misses him by an inch.
“Hey, he’s my prey!” The hammer wielder warns. But the axe-wielder ignores him and rushes Gino for the kill.
Gino parries with his shortsword once, twice, then has to roll to the side to not get smashed by the hammer.
“Why are you both after me?” Gino asks. “Fight each other.”
“He’s not worth any coin.” The axe wielder replies before rushing in. The man is fast and mobile, forcing Gino to play on the defensive. In the meantime, the hammer wielder positions to the side.
Then Gino hears another rustle behind. A man with a longsword rushes at him. Panic takes at the realization that it’s a three against one. Swinging wilding at the Axe, Gino sets off into a sprint. He hears them curse and the sands swish rapidly as they start to chase. Just as he thinks he’s going to be able to get away, something hard bites into his shin. He falls and drops his shortsword. As he tries to get up, he hears the swishing of sand and the grunts of several bodies. He looks back to find the three had caught up. To his surprise, the one with the hammer is the first to arrive. He raises his hammer for an overhead strike that will shatter bones if not kill him.
He blinks and prepares to roll by pushing at the ground with his hand, only for his hand to sink into the sand. Realizing he’s immobilized, Gino closes his eyes and raises his hand to intercept the blow and hopefully conserve his life.
But the blow does not arrive.
When he opens his eyes, the man with the hammer stands with a pike through his neck while simultaneously piercing the swordwielder through the chest. When he glances to the side, the [Gladiator] with the handaxe is completely paused with eyes wide and his focus behind Gino.
Gino follows the man's gaze to find Boris standing at the summit, grinning directly towards him. Boriss winks and grabs a battleaxe at his side. He spins to intercept a spear aimed for his chest, then continues the momentum to implant it into a man's chest.
Seeing the kill reminds Gino of his current position. He stands up and only now that what he’d tripped over was a shield. He grabs the shield and equips it just in time to use it to block the man with the handaxe. He blocks once, twice, and when he blocks the third time, Gino kicks out at the man for space. With the pause, Gino turns around and picks up the shortsword.
It’s here that the [Gladiator] becomes wary. The axe-wielder is better trained than Gino with his shortsword, but Gino has a shield now. Now, it’s a far more equal fight. The two circle, neither willing to take the risk of engaging.
“One-hundred [Gladiators] are now disqualified. Only fifty more to go!” The announce warns.
With the warning given, the [Gladiator] decides that he can’t wait anymore. He rushes forward, swinging his axe in an arc. Gino parries with the shield and attempts to stab with his sword. The [Gladiator] expects this and positions himself to dodge. He does so, but then quickly pivots forward with his axe to follow-up strike Gino's sword hand. If he can disarm him, then the fight will be in the Gladiators favor.
Unfortunately for the [Gladiator], [Rogues] are notorious for being fast. Gino’s hand retracts enough that the axe only hits air. Not that the [Gladiator] is too surprised. Instead, he flips and twists the axe, continuing the onslaught on Gino’s shield. The man is larger and bulkier, meaning that his strikes have more weight on them. He can already feel his shield-arm getting weak.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Realizing he can’t just play defensive. Gino positions his body lower. Then, instead of blocking with his shield, Gino diverts the axe with his shortsword and then slams his shield into the [Gladiators] face. The man's head whips back for a moment. By the time the [Gladiator] recovers, a shortsword enters his throat, twists, and then pulls out. The man drops his axe and places both hands on the wound. Gino matches gazes with the man for a moment, only for the man to crumple to the ground.
Gino had killed people before- rarely either for a job or in self defense. But this kill feels different. Ugly, even. It makes his stomach churn, but he suppresses the feeling. Instead, he hears the cheers of the crowd.
He can hear them cheer a three digit number. As he focuses, for a moment he thinks they are cheering one seventy eight- his own number. But, the number isn’t his. They cheer for one seventy seven.
Gino turns to the apex of the hill to find Boris leaning on a greataxe, surrounded by weapons and corpses- all while a circle of [Gladiators] keep their distance from him.
Then he hears it. The sound of a horn blaring. “Stop fighting!” The announcer's voice echoes over the stadium. “Fifty [Gladiators] remain. The first battle is over.”
Hearing the announcer's words sends a wave of relief through Gino- shortly followed by exhaustion. The young man falls to his knees as the adrenaline and rush leave him. At the same time, the cheering from the crowd echoes louder.
“[Gladiators]. Choose a single weapon from this stage and bring it with you. Do not steal from another [Gladiator]”
Grimacing, Gino forces himself to stand. He needs to get another weapon, a better weapon than a rusted shortsword. He needs to rush to the center and hope that-
His thoughts are interrupted as a dagger lands directly in front of him. When Gino looks up, Boriss waves back with a grin while now resting a greatsword on his shoulder.
Gino waves back absentmindedly. He grabs the dagger and finds its weight optimal and edge decently shart. So long as he can get proper footing, he’ll have a chance of winning.
With his weapon chosen, Gino leaves the battlefield and arrives at the holding chambers. He quickly deposits his weapon in his chest and then puts on his clothes. Then he walks to Borris’s chambers to find the big man being avoided by the other contestants. Boriss looks happy while he finishes putting his clothes back on. It is also here that he notices Gino. Boriss grins. “Friend Gino, you have good fight, Yes?” He asks in his odd common.
“Fight?” Gino asks.
“Da, vith axe man.”
“Oh! Yea. Thank you for that pike throw. I think you saved my life.”
“Is fine,” Boriss waves his hand. “You have sister to save. Dying now is no good. I only give little helping hand.”
Gino raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think killing two [Gladiators] is a little help,” he says.
“Bah, Is little,” Boriss argues back. “Now, vhere is food?”
“Foods not here.”
“Vhat? Boriss frowns. “I vhas promised food if I vin!” Boriss argues.
Gino taps the numbered collar on his neck. “Restaurants and taverns in gladius aren't allowed to charge fighters for drinks and food.”
Boriss’s eyes widen, then the big man grins wider than Gino had ever seen.
__________________________________________________________________
“I can’t believe you brought Clay to a colosseum to watch idiots kill each other!” Myers seethes across a table in the Seething Sword. Clay giggles at the angry old man while Boriss and Gino stuff their faces with meat. Apparently fighting for your life really builds up an appetite.
“It’sa fineee. Just a weee bit of fun,” Cillian explains drunkenly, which just makes Myers even angrier- not that he can have any kind of proper conversation with a drunk man.
“As much as I like to disagree with Cillian, I do find that you coddle Clay too much.” Irmgard says in-between bites. The [First Mate] sits with a lady’s posture while she slowly eats her steak. Next to her, Emma tries to copy her form- even going so far as to eat a steak in the same way. And failing miserably at it all. For someone who's elegant when it comes to writing runes, she really fails at everything else.
As for Nepenthes and Auranta, the two are conversing with one-another over Nepenthes mastery over mutation specialization.
“I do not coddle Clay!” Myers yells defensively.
“You absolutely do,” I finally speak up over my bowl of milk. “The worlds not sunshine and roses. The kid needs to see what happens in the real world. A colosseum is a safe way to do so- far safer than teaching a kid to assassinate the entire crew of a ship.”
“What?” Gino stops midbite to ask.
At that moment, the [Barkeep] Ragnar arrives with another mug. He places it in front of Cillian and then turns to me.
“Is the milk to your liking?”
“Yup.” I nod and tap the bowl with my paw. “Best milk so far- better than that spider milk I had before.”
Rangar grunts. “Lacaranea milk is low in fat and sugar. Many like to call it white water.”
“White piss,” I correct. Rangar nods at my statement, even giving me a slight bend of his lips. That bend becomes even more pronounced when he turns to Boriss. “The rumors are coming through and it seems I have an impressive [Gladiator] in my tavern. Seventeen kills- that’s near the record of nineteen. I imagine you might become a fan favorite.”
“Shite!” Cillian curses. “Thas gonna fook me profits.”
“Not for the next matches it won’t.” Ragnar says.
“Really?” Cillian frowns. “Why?”
“The next two matches involve teams. Tomorrow is a fight against beasts and the day after is a fight against other teams.” Gino explains.
I lick the last bit of cream from my bowl and then stretch as drowsiness hits me hard. “Sounds fun.” I yawn. “Damn, I’m oddly sleepy. That’s some good milk.”
Ragnar grunts.
“I think I might retire early. Irmgard, you’re in charge. Gino, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night,” I hear Clay yell as I walk out of the tavern.
As the door shuts behind me, my drowsiness immediately disappears. Instead of heading back to the ship, I find my way somewhere else. Somewhere much farther down.