A month had passed since that fateful day in the arena. The sun's first light filtered through the small, barred window of my cell, casting a golden hue over the cold stone walls. The days had blended into a relentless cycle of training, each one pushing me further than the last.

I stood in the centre of my cell, shirtless, and marvelled at the tautness of my muscles, honed through endless repetitions of push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and planks. The transformation was astonishing. My once lean frame had become muscular and defined, as if the very essence of this world had accelerated my growth. Almost unnatural if you will.

Amidst my admiration for my body, I heard footsteps approaching from outside my cell. It was the master, carrying a box. He looked at me with a mix of pride and amusement.

"Your wish is here," he said, setting the box down on the ground. "But remember, it isn't the weapon but the user that matters."

My fingers twitched with anticipation as I carefully lifted the lid of the box, the heavy scent of polished steel and oiled leather filling my nose. The first glimpse inside revealed a magnificent set of armour. The breastplate was a masterpiece, adorned with intricate inscriptions that seemed to tell an ancient tale. Each curve and line had been crafted with such precision that it looked like a relic from a bygone era, exuding both beauty and menace.

Next, I lifted the gauntlets, marvelling at their design. They were robust and sturdy, each finger joint reinforced to ensure maximum protection while allowing dexterity. The metal gleamed under the light, and I imagined them enduring the force of a thousand blows without a scratch. My heart raced with excitement, the sight of this armour promising a new level of survival and strength.

With eager hands, I donned the armour piece by piece. The breastplate settled onto my torso with a satisfying weight, its fit so perfect it felt as though it had been crafted just for me. The gauntlets slid over my hands effortlessly, their snug embrace instilling a sense of invulnerability. The entire ensemble hugged my body seamlessly, moving with me rather than constricting my movements. It was as if the armour recognized its new owner and melded itself to my form.

At the bottom of the box lay a sword, cradled in velvet. I lifted it with reverence, immediately struck by its beauty. The blade was a flawless length, neither too short nor too long, perfectly balanced for both defence and attack. Its surface was so polished that it mirrored my face, reflecting my transformed physique. The hilt fit my hand like a glove, its grip firm and reassuring. Despite its formidable appearance, the sword was astonishingly light, a stark contrast to the crude weapon I had wielded in my first battle. I couldn't tell if the difference was due to my newfound strength or the superior craftsmanship of the sword itself.

Holding the sword aloft, I felt an overwhelming surge of confidence. This armour, coupled with my transformation, was more than just protection; it was a symbol of my evolution, a testament to my readiness for the battles ahead.

The master chuckled as he watched me. "Your fight is in an hour. This time it's not a beast, but another warrior with five wins under his belt. Think you've got what it takes?"

I looked at him and nodded. Previously, I wouldn't have known who would win in a fight between me and the master. But now, as I sized him up, I was confident it wouldn't take much to defeat him. The master must have noticed the change in my demeanour because he coughed and quickly changed the subject.

"Prepare while you can, since you'll need more than luck." With that, he excused himself and scurried off.

As I continued to prepare, the reality of my situation set in. This fight would not be against a mindless beast but a seasoned warrior. My previous victory merely luck. This time, strategy and skill would be my allies.

After spending time entranced in my own thought my mind was awoken by a sudden sounding of trumpets and drums followed by the chant of the crowd,

"LION SLAYER" they repeated in unison the voices increasing in volume as the door to my cell was raised.

The sensation of light hitting my face was as blinding as the first time, and my nerves were still raw, even after surviving my first battle. Steeling myself, I stepped onto the sandy, hard floor of the arena, walking slowly but confidently to the centre. The master stood on the podium again, this time not accompanied by the emperor but by an overly obese man, clearly rich. He was draped in luxurious fabrics, and his jewellery glittered in the sun, drawing the eyes of everyone around.

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The master announced, "I hope you are all excited for today's event! The Lion Slayer will now be fighting not a beast, but another man—Lupus, the Man of the Trident, undefeated in five battles and ready to make it his sixth!"

The crowd erupted into a frenzy as the gate to another cell elevated, revealing a well-built man marked by war-torn scars. His armour looked like it had seen better days, battered and worn. He wielded a tall trident, nearly as tall as himself, its prongs covered in dried bloodstains. As he walked towards me, his steps were hesitant, almost as if the rumours surrounding me emanated an unprecedented aura that gave him pause.

We faced each other, the arena around us fading into the background. The master's voice echoed through the coliseum, "Begin!" Lupus' eyes shifted from weary to focused, as if he had found new resolve in the master's words. His grip on the trident tightened, and I could see the determination solidifying in his gaze.

The crowd's roars faded into a distant hum as the adrenaline surged through my veins. Every muscle in my body tensed, ready for the impending clash. The sun beat down relentlessly, casting sharp shadows across the arena. Lupus and I circled each other, each step measured and deliberate, the sand crunching beneath our feet.

The tension between us was palpable.

Lupus made the first move, lunging his trident towards my arm with deadly precision, aiming to disarm me. The impact rang out, but my new gauntlet remained unscathed, not even a scratch marring its surface. Seizing the opportunity, I charged at him, my eyes locked on his neck, ready to plunge my sword but in a split second, he dodged back, moving with the grace and speed of a seasoned warrior.

"He's quick," I thought, my mind racing with strategies. If I could close the distance, the fight would surely be mine. But as if sensing my thoughts, Lupus lunged again, the tip of his trident slicing open my cheek. I expected a searing pain, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins numbed any sensation.

Lupus was playing the long game, aiming to wear me down. But I refused to let that happen. An idea struck me—what if I used the sun's glare on my blade to blind him? We continued circling each other, our eyes locked in a deadly dance, until the sun was directly behind me. I angled my sword just right, catching the sunlight and reflecting it into his eyes. He instinctively covered his face, and I seized the moment, lunging forward with my sword aimed at his exposed neck.

Just as I thought victory was mine, Lupus regained his sight and reacted with lightning speed, thrusting his trident into my mouth. The spear's tip lacerated my cheek, leaving a gaping hole as he withdrew. My head grew light from the rush of adrenaline, but I wasn't finished. As he prepared for another lunge, I kicked sand into his eyes, blinding him again. using the new found opportunity, I tackled him to the ground, ensuring he couldn't use his weapon.

Straddling him, I forced my sword towards his face. He grabbed my hands in a desperate attempt to fend off his fate. His eyes, once fierce and determined, were now wide with fear and as my strength, honed through the month of relentless training, began to overpower him. His resistance weakened, and finally my blade plunged through the centre of his eyes with startling quickness. I had won.

But the sight of Lupus, a man who thought he could take my life, defeated, ignited a fury I never knew I had. I continued to stab repeatedly; again and again and again and again, consumed by a primal rage. The crowd's horrified silence finally broke through my haze, snapping me back to reality.

I looked up, seeing the spectators' and noble's faces twisted in shock and horror. Then I glanced down. An unrecognisable, lifeless head stared back at me. "What have I done?" I murmured, the weight of my actions crashing down on me. For what felt like an eternity, I stared at the gruesome remains. Finally, I stood up, more afraid of myself than anything else. The master announced my name as the victor, but I ignored this and walked towards my cell door, covered in blood, regret, and fear.

The the gate slammed shut behind me, and I collapsed onto the rough, cold floor, my mind replaying the horrific scene. Lupus' lifeless, mutilated face haunted my thoughts. I felt a mix of triumph and revulsion, unable to reconcile the two.

Time seemed to blur as I lay there, consumed by my own turmoil. The sounds of the arena faded, replaced by the steady drip of water. I stared at the ceiling, my mind wandering back to the moments before the battle, to the sense of hope and determination that had filled me when I first donned the new armour.

And then a memory came to mind, vivid and haunting. It was of my father, though his face seemed indistinct, as if blurred by time. His voice, however, was clear, a faint whisper that grew louder with each passing second. I remembered the day he forbade me from participating in judo. I had begged him to let me join the club, desperate to prove myself. But he refused, saying something along the lines of, "It's no good for people of the Enma clan to engage in combat sports." Back then, his words had been confusing, a cryptic denial that left me frustrated and disappointed. But now, in the harsh reality of the gauntlet, those words seemed to hold a deeper meaning, one that I was only beginning to understand.

My reverie was abruptly shattered by the master's gruff voice. "Oi, you sorry bastard! Why did you have to go and do that? Now everyone's calling you the Savage Beast. I can't sell that name better than Lion Slayer."

I nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. The master's frustration was palpable, and I knew my actions had consequences beyond the arena.

"Anyway," he continued, "you're getting a new roommate soon, so you better not scare him too much."

Before I could respond, he turned on his heel and left, his words hanging in the air. A new roommate, I thought to myself. I hope it's not another old, helpless man like Ascal.

To be continued...