"Hey, wake up."

A voice echoed in my head, pulling me from the depths of my uneasy sleep.

"Get up now if you want to avoid lashings."

At the sound of this threat, I jolted upright from my fetal position on the cold, hard ground of the prison cell. "It wasn't a dream?" I muttered to myself in shock and confusion.

"Dream? What dream?" came a gruff voice. It was the man from last night.

I could finally see his face clearly: old, with long grey hair and a deeply lined face. He didn't look like someone fit to be a gladiator. "You're always saying the most daft things, but that's the least of your worries. Get prepared for the master's briefing."

As he spoke, the short, tubby man who had ordered us to sleep last night appeared by the cell bars with a big grin on his face. "Ascal, you and the weirdo here have been chosen to fight alongside our guest of honour, the Sylvan Prince Rhistal Faeleth."

"What! Why us?" the old man, whom I now knew as Ascal, responded, his face clouded with worry.

The master chuckled. "Emperor Revalor Cassis will be watching today and has paid a few extra pieces to see that brat get slaughtered by the lions. And of course, you've been chosen because you'll be of no help to the prince. Your job is to just stand there, look pretty, and die."

He finished his sentence with a sneer and tossed two swords onto the ground. They were old, battered, and about the size of my torso.

"We're supposed to kill a lion with these?" I thought to myself as I stared at the pitiful excuse for a weapon. The thought of lions in this strange world barely registered amidst my fear and confusion.

Ascal picked up one of the swords, testing its weight with a grimace. "Just our luck," he muttered. "Fighting lions for the sake of that emperor's political ambitions." I grabbed the other sword, its weight awkward in my hands.

"Political ambitions, what do you mean?" i queried Ascal

Ascal looked at me and huffed with irritation "The Cassis and Sylvan empires have long been at eachothers throats with emperor Revalor longing to find a way to initiate a war with the Sylvans and now that Rhistal with his overly large ego has wandered into the gauntlet Revalor is basically being handed the opportunity to have him killed."

The reality of our situation was sinking in fast. In a few hours, we would be in the arena, fighting not just for survival but also for the twisted ambitions of Emperor Revalor Cassis and his bloodthirsty audience.

Ascal's eyes met mine. "Welcome to pax, newcomer."

Trying to steady my shaking hands. The master watched us with that same sinister grin. "Get ready, warriors. The crowd awaits."

As he walked away, leaving us with our meager weapons and mounting dread, I couldn't help but wonder if this day would be our last.

After waiting for what felt like an eternity, a loud trumpet blared, followed by the rhythmic pounding of drums. The heavy door in the wall began to rise, flooding the dim cell with a blinding ray of light. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out a sea of faces—tens of thousands of people cheering and roaring with anticipation.

"Let's go," Ascal said stiffly, stepping onto the hard sand floor of the arena.

I followed close behind, each step amplifying my anxiety tenfold. In the centre of the arena stood a young man, probably in his early twenties, clad in magnificent gold armour with intricate patterns and wielding a beautiful sword and shield clearly made by the very best blacksmiths and artisans. I deduced this was the prince the master had mentioned.

The prince turned to us, his eyes scanning us up and down with thinly veiled disappointment. He said something, but his words were drowned out by the deafening roar of the crowd. As I looked around, all I could see was a sea of cheering people, indistinguishable from one another—except for one man. Dressed in splendid garments, he exuded an aura of authority and malice, staring at us with a discerning grin.

"That must be the emperor," I thought, his malevolent presence sending a chill down my spine.

Suddenly, the arena fell into a deafening silence. Everyone turned to face the emperor's seat. Next to him stood the master, who stepped onto a podium and loudly proclaimed:

"Welcome all to this momentous occasion! Today, we will witness the Prince of the Sylvan Empire, Rhistal Faeleth, alongside his odd and elderly comrades, fight to the death against the legendary beast from the West—the lion!"

The crowd erupted in wild cheers as the master stepped down. A loud rumbling came from one side of the arena as a massive gate began to rise. From behind the rising gate, a monstrous golden lion began to emerge, its sheer size dwarfing that of four grown men. Its muscular frame rippled with each powerful step, and its golden fur glistened under the harsh sunlight, giving it an almost otherworldly glow. The lion's massive head swung side to side as it surveyed the arena, its eyes like burning amber, filled with a primal intelligence and ferocity.

Saliva dripped from its gaping maw, each droplet glistening before splattering onto the sandy floor. Its jaws opened wide, revealing a terrifying array of teeth, each one as long and sharp as a human finger, glistening with a mixture of saliva and blood from previous kills. The beast's breath came in hot, steaming puffs, its nostrils flaring as it caught our scent.

Its enormous paws, each the size of a man's chest, made deep imprints in the sand with every step. The claws, retractable yet clearly visible, were as thick as daggers, capable of rending flesh and bone with terrifying ease. The lion's tail, thick and powerful, swished through the air, stirring up dust and adding to the tension.

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As the lion fully emerged, it let out a deafening roar that echoed through the arena, the sound reverberating off the walls and filling the air with its raw power. The crowd's cheers grew even louder, feeding off the beast's ferocity. The lion's mane, a darker shade of gold, framed its face like a crown, making it look every bit the king of beasts.

Every muscle in the lion's body seemed coiled and ready to spring, its eyes locking onto us with an unnerving focus. This was no ordinary lion

The sight of the beast sent a wave of terror through me. I tightened my grip on the battered sword, trying to steady my trembling hands. Ascal, beside me, readied his weapon, his face a mask of grim determination.

The prince, now standing with us in formation, turned and shouted over the noise of the crowd, "Stay close and follow my lead!"

Despite the fear gnawing at my insides, I nodded. The lion let out a deafening roar, echoing through the arena and sending the crowd into a frenzy. The battle for survival had begun.

With a final, resolute breath, we stepped forward to face the beast, knowing that the eyes of the emperor, the crowd, and perhaps fate itself were fixed upon us.

The lion began to circle to the left, its predatory eyes fixed on us as if analysing our every move. We mirrored its motion, circling in the opposite direction, our weapons at the ready. For what felt like an eternity, we maintained this tense standoff, until finally, after about three minutes, Rhistal broke the silence.

"We attack now," he commanded, his voice steady and authoritative. "I will take the lion's brute force attack with my shield while you two go for its neck from either side."

I was taken aback. The prince, who had initially struck me as an arrogant youth with little real-world experience, was now demonstrating surprising strategic acumen. His plan seemed sound, and his confidence was infectious.

"On my count: one, two, three... NOW!" Rhistal yelled.

Without hesitation, I sprinted towards the lion, my heart pounding. Under Rhistal's command, I felt a surge of confidence, as if his leadership alone could guide us to victory.

The lion noticed our advance and instantly charged. Rhistal raised his shield to absorb the impact. The beast's gigantic paw smashed against the shield with a force that sent Rhistal flying into Ascal, knocking them both to the ground and rendering them immobile.

I froze in horror. The plan I had believed would save us had crumbled in mere seconds. Ascal lay dazed, his face void of emotion, while Rhistal's torso and arm were gruesomely lacerated by the lion's claws, the whiteness of bone glimmering in the sunlight. His cries of agony were drowned out by the crowd's frenzied excitement.

Back on Earth, the sight of such carnage would have made me vomit, but here, in the arena, my fixation on the lion left no room for anything else. The beast's eyes locked onto me, and before I could react, it leaped upon both Ascal and Rhistal. Its massive paw crushed Ascal's skull like an insect, while its powerful jaws tore apart Rhistal's once noble and alluring face into something from a horror movie.

Time seemed to slow as I watched in helpless terror. The prince's plan had failed, and now I stood alone against the monstrous beast. The lion's roar echoed through the arena, a triumphant sound that fed the bloodthirsty crowd's frenzy. The realisation that I might be next in line to face its wrath sent a cold chill down my spine. I tightened my grip on my weapon, knowing that my only hope now lay in fighting with every ounce of strength I had left.

Once the beast had ensured the deaths of Ascal and Rhistal, its gaze locked onto me. Each step it took drained what little confidence I had left.

"Is this it?" I muttered to myself, the words barely audible over the pounding of my heart. "Have I really been thrown into this world only to die a day later?" I repeated these thoughts over and over, as if they might somehow bolster my resolve.

The lion closed the distance between us with terrifying speed, its massive form like a tsunami bearing down on a helpless ant. Desperation took hold, and with all my might, I thrust my sword forward. The weapon, so brittle and inadequate, seemed laughable against such a formidable foe. As the lion lunged, our distance closed in an instant. Its claws slashed at my face, and the world around me dimmed, the crowd's frenzied noise falling into an eerie silence.

I braced myself for the end, expecting to see the white gates of a heaven I had never believed in. Instead, I felt a warm liquid sensation covering my face, followed by an immense weight pinning me to the ground, immobilising me.

After what felt like a millennia, I forced my one remaining eye open and was greeted by a large clump of damp, soft fur. My vision adjusted, and slowly, I realised that I was not dead. My sword, whether by luck or fate, had pierced the lion's skull as the beast lay motionless atop me, its life extinguished by my desperate strike.

The crowd, which had fallen silent, erupted into a cacophony of disbelief and excitement. The realisation of what had happened dawned on me slowly. I had survived. Against all odds, I had killed the lion.

I struggled to push the lion's massive body off me, its weight pressing me further into the sandy floor. Finally, with a supreme effort, I managed to wriggle free and stood up, covered in blood and sand, my sword still embedded in the lion's skull.

Breathing heavily, I looked around the arena. The faces of the crowd were a blur of astonishment and admiration. The emperor, who had watched the spectacle with a cruel grin, now seemed slightly taken aback. His eyes met mine, and I saw a flicker of something—respect, perhaps, or merely interest.

After gathering my thoughts and surveying the chaos that had unfolded, a small grin began to spread across my face. The rush of confidence and pride from defeating such a monstrous beast was intoxicating. But my brief moment of triumph was abruptly cut short when I noticed Rhistal's body quivering.

I hurried over to him, where he lay half-dead beside Ascal's pale, lifeless form. Rhistal, drowning in his own blood, managed to speak a few, heart-wrenching words:

"Kill me."

With reluctance, I picked up his sword, its weight heavy with the burden of mercy. Plunging the blade into his heart, I watched as his eyes slowly faded into darkness, the last flicker of life extinguished. A profound sorrow washed over me, mingling with the lingering adrenaline of the fight.

Standing there, victorious yet grieving, the realisation struck me that this was just the beginning. The arena had claimed its victims today, but it had also forged a survivor. In this brutal, unforgiving world, survival was merely the first step toward something greater.

With a final look at the fallen lion, I pulled my sword free from its skull and raised it high into the sky. The blade glinted in the sunlight, a symbol of defiance and resilience. The crowd erupted into deafening cheers, their roar echoing through the arena, a cacophony of awe and bloodlust.

As I walked away from the carcass, each step resonated with newfound purpose. The faces in the crowd blurred into a sea of indistinguishable figures, but their energy was palpable, feeding into my determination. I knew then that my journey was far from over. The trials ahead would be many, and the path fraught with danger, but I was no longer the same person who had entered the arena.

My steps grew steadier as I approached the exit, the weight of Rhistal's and Ascal's sacrifices heavy on my heart. Their memories would not be in vain. I vowed to honour them by fighting on, by uncovering the truths of this strange world, and by rising above the brutality that sought to consume me.

The arena, a place of death and despair, had become a crucible. It had tested my limits and revealed strengths I never knew I possessed. As I emerged from the shadow of the coliseum, the sun blazed overhead, casting a harsh but invigorating light on my path forward.

With every breath, I steeled myself for the challenges to come. I had survived the lion's wrath, and now, I would face whatever awaited me beyond these bloodstained sands. The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear: I was a survivor, and this was only the beginning of my fight.

To be continued…