Gwendolyn stubbornly looks into the eyes of the scarred faced woman standing over her, her upper half still soaked from being drowned and brought back to life all because she refused to give in to what God demanded of her.
“Fuck you,” She spits onto the woman’s legs, harshly refusing the proposal to rethink her decision.
“Interesting… you died yet you have this much fight left. I’ve never seen one as stubborn as you. That makes breaking you down even more fun for me,” Audra chuckles as she wipes the spit off.
“Get her back up, looks like the girl wants to die again,” Audra orders, preparing to repeat this process. For hours the cycle continues, the men helping Audra hold Gwendolyn’s head underwater until she can’t stand it anymore, only getting a moment of relief before being forced back under.
By the end of it, Gwendolyn is in a haze, disoriented by being on the edge of death for so long.
She can barely hear when Audra tells her, “That’s all I have for today. Given you, I’d expect to see you tomorrow”.
Audra disappears as the two men bring the less resistant Gwendolyn back to her room. Inside, Lazaro is working on the other women’s hair, preparing for something Gwendolyn is unaware of.
“Oh Gwendolyn, it happened didn’t it? How are you feeling? Are you okay?” Klara rushes to her side once she sees the damp and disoriented Gwendolyn.
It takes a second for Gwendolyn to collect her thoughts before she responds, “I’m fine”.
“Girl you don’t look fine,” Finella comments from over in her chair. Everyone is now looking at Gwendolyn; Tullia has a look of superiority on her face as Francine starts to quiver at the memory of her going through the exact same thing.
“I’m sorry Gwendolyn, but I’m going to need you to work with me right now. I have to get you girls ready for the Pits in an hour, so please take a seat in the chair so I can get to work,” Lazaro requests as calmly as he can, trying to get over their confrontation from this morning.
Gwendolyn listens; Klara guides her into the chair, not really registering what is going on. Her mind is still beneath the water within that tub, thinking of what she can lose as she fights for survival.
Lazaro starts by blow-drying her dress before beginning to style her hair. The heat from the blow dryer brings Gwendolyn back to her senses, coming to realize that she let Lazaro pretty her up when she promised herself she wouldn’t let him.
She debates making a scene, but the others are so compliant that it causes her to let it happen. Looking beautiful isn’t a betrayal, but anything past that she will refuse.
“Alright, you girls are ready. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Lazaro notes as he takes his leave.
“You look really lovely Gwendolyn. I wish I could look that good,” Klara notes as she looks at her, astonished by her bright silky hair and intense eyes enhanced by Lazaro’s work.
“We’ll see how long that lasts, she will likely become a disheveled mess by the end of the week,” Tullia chimes in, unable to let the compliment go unchallenged.
“That wasn’t very nice Tullia. I would expect you to treat our new quest with more courtesy than that,” They all turn to see God has entered the room. Tullia stiffens up, embarrassed that God was there to see that side of her.
“You all are looking lovely this afternoon, now come with me. We have a show to enjoy,” God orders, his eyes drifting towards Gwendolyn to gauge how well she is holding up from the torture.
God leads the five women down from their tower, heading through the empty cobblestone paths until they arrive at a finely crafted tunnel. As they head down it, Gwendolyn notices bright light on the other side.
It takes a second for things to come into focus. In front of her is a massive arena; all around them are people loudly clamoring for the festivities to begin. She is taken aback by the creatures near the edges of what must be the Pits, large cat-like beasts with purple fur and a giant reptile that almost looks like a dragon without wings, except for the long tusks coming from its mouth.
“Impressed? You should be. These are the Pits, here brave men fight not only the creatures you see before you but also each other,” God begins to explain what is going on to Gwendolyn.
“What? Is this just for your entertainment?” Gwendolyn asks him in a biting tone.
“No, have you lost your vision. This is not just for me; it’s for all of these people as well. They enjoy the excitement that comes from watching those in mortal peril. It is one of the oddest traits that we humans have isn’t it? I do have to admit I find it quite crude that those of you that can die would take such joy in each other’s mortality,” God observes, his tone full of curiosity.
Just as God finishes his musings, an extremely old looking man enters the box they are sitting within, slowly walking forward to take a seat next to God.
“Ah, Cyprien, it is good to see you join us today,” God grins at his arrival.
“I would not miss it. I heard of the man who you found in the jungle… he’s the one she spoke of isn’t he?” Cyprien mentions, his body quivering in what would seem to be excitement from an outside observer.
“We can speak of that later, for now, let’s see what is in store for all of us today,” God shifts the conversation away from whatever Cyprien was talking about. This causes Gwendolyn to become suspicious, thinking the man Cyprien mentioned could be Drakthar.
“Welcome everyone!” God stands up and begins to shout to the audience.
“I am glad all of you could make it today. We have some new faces that will hopefully give us an intriguing show,” he sits back down and looks on as what seems to be at least a hundred men walk into the center of the arena.
It isn’t hard for Gwendolyn to spot Drakthar standing among them, he is sporting the same rags he was in when God spoke to them initially before they were separated. They’re not trying to make this a fair fight, she thinks to herself as she notes the armor and weapons the others are holding.
“But it is fair, those men earned that equipment through points, your friend Drakthar can do the same,” God informs her, having been reading her thoughts.
“Points are what the fighters earn for doing well, they can spend it on stuff that will help them,” Klara quickly adds, trying to remind Gwendolyn of their conversation about this from yesterday.
This causes Gwendolyn to remember that another thing fighters can spend their points on is time with any of them. This realization causes her to notice Finella sitting in a particularly alluring way to advertise herself to those below. The others don’t share her bravado, choosing to sit normally as to not draw any attention.
“So which one is your friend?” Klara asks Gwendolyn, curious to know who she should be rooting for once things start to get hectic.
“The one near the right end, the taller guy from the desert,” Gwendolyn tries to point him out.
Klara’s eyes follow Gwendolyn’s finger, she spots Drakthar and can’t suppress herself from commenting, “You mean the one built like a brick house?”
“Yeah,” Gwendolyn responds unenthusiastically.
Down in the pit, Drakthar looks around, his eyes drawn to the same beasts that Gwendolyn noticed earlier. Right now chains restrain them but some men come out from around the arena and start to undo the chains on these restless creatures.
He changes his focus to the other men, scanning for one thing in particular. It doesn’t take him long for his eyes to reach what he was looking for. Near the other end of the line of people, he spots it, his axe in the hands of one of the larger looking men.
“Alright maggots, we are about to begin. You know the rules, kill the beasts and split the points, kill each other and get half their points. Equipment can be stolen; whoever has possession of it by the end gets it for next time. Beasts will be released and then you can feel free to kill each other,” a familiar guard goes over the rules one last time before turning around and exiting the arena.
“Hey, we stay together okay? If we fight in a group the others will be scared to try and do anything to us. It’s how we have survived so far,” Pravin tells Drakthar before things get started.
“I need to get that axe,” Drakthar responds, letting Pravin know he will do what he needs to get his hands on it.
“Don’t be so rash, you don’t have anything and that guy has full armor,” Lorens tries to get his head on straight.
“You two stay together then. I will make it back to you with the axe,” Drakthar decides, it being easier for them to do what they usually do instead of trying to make them uncomfortable.
Just as he says this the chains drop, the crowd roars along with the large tiger-like beasts as they quickly sprint towards the meat they seek to devour. As most of the men turn to take on these animals in the hopes of gaining points from them, Drakthar starts to make his way to the man holding his axe.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Others notice the newbie confidently walking through a group of them and decide to try and teach him a lesson. The men, armed with shadily constructed swords and leather armor, approach Drakthar, devious smirks plastered on their faces as they are about to teach this man a lesson about the Pits.
Drakthar doesn’t acknowledge them, confidently walking forward.
“Wait, don’t just walk by,” one attempts to stop him by putting a hand on his shoulder. Drakthar grabs a hold of the man’s wrist and crushes it, causing him to drop his sword in his other hand to cradle the broken one as he screams in pain.
Another tries to get revenge for his friend. He tells Drakthar, “You can’t just…” as he too ends up on the receiving end as Drakthar effortlessly flips the man over his shoulders, laying him out flat onto the dirt beneath them.
Drakthar finally makes it over to the man holding his axe, he is wielding it sloppily, the weapon has too much weight for this man to handle. Drakthar grabs the man by the head and crushes it, blood and brains turn to mush between his fingers as he takes back his axe and half of this man’s points in the process.
Now reunited with his weapon, Drakthar turns back towards those who were harassing him earlier, their bravery having melted away at the sight of the imposing man holding his weapon. They try to run, but it is too late. Drakthar effortlessly cuts through each of them as they helplessly try to fight back.
Drakthar takes no joy in slaughtering these weaklings but sees it as a necessity to get Gwendolyn and himself out of here and back to their friends.
“Holy shit man, you just killed like thirty guys,” Pravin notes as he and Lorens join up with Drakthar.
“Take some of their stuff while we watch over you,” Lorens suggests, seeing the heaps of bodies with semi-decent equipment. Drakthar finds leather armor large enough for him along with a pair of boots.
As he slips into them they all hear a familiar voice from behind them.
“Well, it would seem the newbie is trying to upstage me. I’m not going to let what happened yesterday in the cell happen again”.
They turn to see Trevain and his posse of men standing around him. Drakthar, not impressed in the slightest by any of them, walks past, grabbing hold of Trevain’s head and brutally slamming it into the edge of the arena.
Trevain’s blood oozes out from his helmet and paints the wall a deep crimson. His men stand there shocked at how their leader, the fifth strongest in this arena, could be bested so easily.
As they start to come to their senses, they give each other looks of affirmation, knowing what they must do to avenge the fallen. They all begin to rush at Drakthar, their weapons are drawn and ready to skewer the man who killed their boss.
Drakthar stands ready, grabbing the back of the first one’s head and leading him to a similar fate as Trevain as he uses his own momentum to slam him into the edge of the arena before spinning to dodge another’s incoming sword.
He dances around it before lodging his axe deep within that man’s skull. He doesn’t have enough time to pull it out as another approaches, instead, he quickly grabs the sword from the man’s hand and turns to swipe at the next closest to him.
The tip of the sword hits the man’s throat, creating a fountain that drenches the floor between them before the lifeless body falls down upon it.
Drakthar drops the sword as he ducks to avoid an incoming spear, as he is close to the ground he spots a loose chain that was used to tie up one of the beasts. He grabs a hold of it and lunges forward, using it to catch the man who threw the spear and toss him over his shoulder into the audience.
The others who were going to help all stop, watching as Drakthar glares at him as he holds out the chain to his right and drops it to the floor. They all panic and begin to flee, not wanting to end up like their comrades.
Once they are all gone, Drakthar goes over to the body of the man whose head his axe is stuck in and pulls it out, putting it over his shoulder as he strides towards the area where some men are fighting the large purple jungle cats.
Pravin and Lorens wait there, watching in awe at their new comrade as he ends the bout some of the men were struggling to win in two swings, one that cleaved off the leg of the creature and the second which removed its head.
“Your friend is a monster,” Klara tells Gwendolyn back up within God’s viewing box in the stands, fear the predominant emotion that can be sensed in her words.
“Your friend is hot,” Finella butts in, making sure to use a similar wording as Klara.
“He’s taken, so don’t try anything,” Gwendolyn warns Finella, trying her best to keep her away from Drakthar for Kali’s sake. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees God peering at her with a knowing look in his eyes. Gwendolyn shakes it off before focusing back on the arena. To her surprise she sees Drakthar staring back up at her, the two he has been friendly with pointing out the box.
“Lorens’ wife is the one on the end there. You said your friend is the one on God’s left?” Pravin asks as they take a break from the fighting to talk.
“Yes, she is my friend,” Drakthar states plainly, unable to find a better way to describe what Gwendolyn is to him.
“Wow, your friend is very attractive. I’m sure a bunch of guys are going to request to be with her after today,” Pravin notes, knowing some guys save up points just to spend some time with beautiful women before they inevitably die down in the Pits.
This causes Drakthar to let out an unsatisfied grunt, he looks around the arena and picks a fight to join. He makes his way over to where a bunch of heavily armored men are fighting the giant lizard with tusks.
Their finer armor makes it so they can survive being bashed around by the creature. A man wielding a spear seems to be directing them as he jabs at the beast. Drakthar notices that unlike every other person in this arena, this man knows what he is doing. His movements are so exact that each time a part of the beast’s scaly flesh is nearby the spear is forced in it, wasting no time or effort.
Drakthar begins to grin, ignoring the giant monster the man is fighting opting to challenge him right here and now. The man can sense the overwhelming bloodlust from behind him, vastly overwhelming that same bloodlust coming from the beast he has been fighting.
Wordlessly he turns around to face the source of it, completely ignoring the enemy he had been focusing on for most of his time in the Pits today. Just as Drakthar raises his axe, ready to clash with this intriguing foe, a loud horn sounds that marks the ending of the fighting within the Pits for the day.
All the men drop their weapons and begin to walk back towards the entrance they had come through.
“Drakthar, come on, we are supposed to leave now,” Pravin tells him, trying to get his new friend to move before he gets himself in trouble.
Drakthar listens, but his gaze never leaves the curious man with the spear that he was about to clash with.
“What? Why do you keep looking…” Pravin asks before his eyes settle on whom Drakthar is eyeing.
“Who is he?” Drakthar asks, curious about the man who is far superior to the others around him.
“That’s Radek, he’s the best down here right now. I heard he is only one hundred points away from getting out,” Pravin whispers, afraid someone might overhear them.
“Next time, I am going to kill him,” Drakthar confidently declares, giving off the same bloodlust that he was earlier, it not being satiated by the end of their time in the Pits.
As they get inside the underworking of the arena there are a bunch of stalls with lines of men waiting in front of them.
“Points redistribution, they’ll tell us how much we got today,” Lorens informs Drakthar who he assumed was wondering why they are waiting in line.
As he gets to the front a man looks up at him lifelessly.
“Name?” He asks, clearly not one who enjoys his job.
“Drakthar,” Drakthar responds with the same if not even less enthusiastic tone.
The man’s almost glazed over eyes quickly widen at the number he sees by Drakthar’s name. Not only that but what makes it even more unbelievable is that the previous number was zero.
“Drakthar… you have three hundred and seventy-five points,” he almost can’t believe his own words as he says this. The room suddenly becomes silent, those who overheard the man start to whisper as they look over at Drakthar, the rookie who just climbed into second place after only fighting in the Pits once.
“Did you want to spend any of your points?” The man is almost scared to ask. Drakthar looks back at his comrades and back at the man before crafting his response.
Meanwhile, after the fighting had concluded, God leads Gwendolyn and the other women back to their tower.
“I hope all of you enjoyed the festivities today, I will, of course, let you know if any of our fine fighters have chosen to spend some time with you tonight,” God tells them as he ushers them back through the door to their room.
“It was wonderful, I hope you were able to enjoy it as well,” Tullia responds, trying to kiss up to God in any way possible.
“I did, I think we all noticed the interesting new fighter everyone is going to be talking about tonight,” God pointedly looks at Gwendolyn when he says this, all of them knowing Drakthar is the one he is speaking of.
“Farewell, I must attend to other things,” God bids them goodbye before closing the door. Once they get inside Francine collapses, the pressure and worry of watching her husband fighting in the Pits too much for her to hide anymore.
“Come on not again. He lived, didn’t he? You are being too dramatic,” Finella starts to complain, not fond of having to deal with this every time they get back from the Pits.
“Back off Finella! It’s harder for her. We wouldn’t understand,” Klara comes to Francine’s defense, going over to help her back to her feet, before guiding her into the back room.
“Well, it would seem your friend, Drakthar was his name? Anyway, he is going to be someone to watch going forward. I bet you love that, between you and him there won’t be enough of God’s attention left for any of us,” Tullia notes contentiously, clearly jealous of the new subjects of God’s interest.
“Yeah, Drakthar is strong but don’t think he enjoys this or that I do either, both of us just want to get out of here, unlike you. So why don’t you just keep kissing up to God while the rest of us try to mind our own business,” Gwendolyn takes the opportunity to snap back, having had enough of Tullia’s disparaging comments and petty behavior.
“Damn, you tell her new girl!” Finella cheers at her boldness in standing up to Tullia.
“Hmph, fine,” Tullia turns around and disappears behind the door to the bedroom.
“So, Gwendolyn, what’s up with your friend again? I know you said to stay away from him but why?” Finella asks now that Tullia is gone.
“A close friend of mine is with him and I don’t want you ruining that,” Gwendolyn clarifies, not afraid to offend her if she doesn’t want to hear this.
“Hmm… well I guess I could try and hold back, but if he pays for me I’m going to rock his world,” Finella warns her.
“Trust me, that’s never going to happen,” Gwendolyn assures her, knowing exactly where Drakthar’s priorities are. Suddenly from behind the two of them the door opens, a meek-looking man is standing there waiting to inform them of something.
“Go ahead,” Finella urges him on, curious to know if she is going to have any company tonight.
“Can I get Klara, Francine, and Gwendolyn?” The man asks, those being the women who were requested.
“Dammit! Okay hold on let me go get the other two,” Finella complains before going back to get the other two.
“Hey, it’s okay, it could be him this time,” Klara can be heard consoling Francine as the two of them emerge from the back and join Gwendolyn.
They follow the scared looking man who takes them down a few flights before leading them each to their own rooms. When Gwendolyn gets inside she notices a table full of food, it isn’t as good as what God had given her for breakfast but it was still fairly high quality.
On the other side of the room is a bed; she scowls at the sight of it, annoyed that she is going to have this same conversation with yet another pushy man. As she looks back at the food on the table, the door opens, a large figure walks through it Gwendolyn smiles as he knows it as Drakthar.