Vul sat on a stone bench, one face among hundreds crowding the Colosseum. A fight slogged on in the arena below.

Those around him seemed entertained; He knew better.

Two spearmen of equivalent mediocrity. No twist, no tension. Whoever is the victor, the result will be the same.

He tapped his fingers against the back of the chair in front of him.

The spectator beside him looked over. A young, insignificant noble.

“On whom did you bet?” He asked

Vul smiled.

“The Arena Master.”

“What do you mean?”

“My bet was that the crowd would remain enthralled no matter the drivel presented. Thus, the Arena Master wins; the spectators lose.”

“How do we lose if we are entertained?”

“The Arena Master will not try anything new or exciting while monotony draws crowds all the same. Indeed, why should they? Innovation takes effort and risk. But too long without it...stagnation sets in.”

“I see what you mean. There was more variety when we had fresh prisoners of war. After those ran out it’s just been professionals.”

“Why, I think it’d be more interesting if we threw one of these fools here into the ring next round.” Vul gestured to the crowd at the top of the stadium.

“That it would, but the arena would never do it. Who would attend if that was a risk?”

“Oh, no one would have to know where the fool came from! Only laugh at their ineptitude.”

The man laughed and took a sip from his drink.

A dark glint flashed in Vul’s eyes.

“In fact...it can be arranged.”

The man put his cup down and looked over, confused by the change in Vul’s demeanor.

“What are you s—”

Vul seized the man’s arm and shifted. The next moment they were in the prep chamber just outside the arena.

The waiting combatant turned in surprise.

“Last minute matchup change. You’re off the hook.” Vul announced.

The man looked confused.

“Tell them: ‘Vul’s orders.’”

“Where are we? What’s going on?!” The spectator demanded

“Why, you’re up next! Entertainment, just like you agreed to!”

“This isn’t...that’s not what I…” The blood drained from his face.

“Oh, what’s this? It’s fine to throw some unfortunate spectator in the ring...unless it’s yourself? That doesn’t sound fair, we’re all ‘some random person’ to everyone else.”

“No...No! I was wrong!”

“Tsk tsk, Too little, too late. Better strap on some armor in a hurry! The current round could wrap up any moment now.”

The man retrieved a set of scale mail from the wall and began to fumble with the clasps. His hands trembled.

He eventually managed to don it, despite the bad fit.

He seized two javelins from the wall and ran towards where Vul blocked the door. He raised his weapon—

Vul flicked his hand dismissively.

The man lost all forward momentum. He stood for a moment, confused. He raised his javelin again.

Vul yawned. The weapon flew from the man’s hand and clattered against the opposite wall.

“A bit of advice: your chances are better in the arena. In fact, I’ll give you a fighting chance: Entertain me sufficiently and I’ll see if I feel like putting you back together afterward.”

Sweat trickled down the side of the man’s head.

“Relax! Just think about how much fun it’ll be to watch!”

The gate to the arena lifted.

Vul shoved the trembling man into the arena. The man hesitated, looking back. The gate slammed shut. He began to walk towards the center. His steps were shaky and he stumbled, nearly falling on his face.

The crowd jeered.

Vul returned to his seat. No one had noticed his sudden disappearance, or if so they were wise enough to ignore it.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Now, let us see how the unfortunate man fights for his life. His true opponent is my boredom.

The former spectator held his javelin in front of him, trying to keep his opponent from closing in. His lack of experience was obvious.

The gladiator had a mace and shield. After a few lunges to test his foe’s reactions, he made an obvious feint. The spectator fell for it, raising his javelin to keep the other man back. His foe immediately ducked beneath it and closed in with a quick blow against the side of the spectator’s helmet. The man collapsed in a clatter.

The gladiator hesitated for a moment, surprised at his opponent’s frailty. He raised his mace to finish off his opponent.

As he was swinging it, the man on the ground moved his javelin upward, aiming for his foe’s neck.

The gladiator sidestepped and the spear took him in the armpit.

His collapse was intentional. Not a bad decision, as his inexperience made the weakness more believable. But was it a spark of ingenuity or a lucky coincidence?

The man tried to remove the spear by walking back, but the spectator had scrambled to his feet as soon as it made contact. He was pressing to keep the spear lodged. He knew he had no chance in a fair fight.

The gladiator swung his mace at the center of the javelin, snapping it. He charged before the other man could react, striking his right arm. The bone snapped and the broken spear-handle fell from his limp fingers.

The man used his other arm to throw a handful of dirt into the gladiator’s eyes.

He picked it up while on the ground. Another unexpected mark in his favor.

Despite the dirt, the gladiator quickly landed a flurry of blows. The former spectator lay on the ground, unconscious and bleeding. The gladiator raised his mace. The crowd roared.

Fine, fine. I suppose I’ll let him live.

The gladiator swung to finish his opponent.

Vul cast a spell on the man’s broken body to stop him from completely dying.

“Don’t you have better things to do than torment helpless mortals?” An melodic voice resonated from beside him where a tall figure now stood, an opaque grey veil obscuring her face.

“Absolutely not. How about you? What are you doing here, Yarn? I wouldn’t have thought the arena was your cup of tea.”

“It’s not. I have questions about your...side project.”

“Side project? What side project?” He faked confusion.

“Don’t give me that. I’ve met children who are better actors than you.”

“No, really. Which side project? I have several.”

“Your little group of miscreants.”

“Oh, that project.”

She tossed a jeweled medallion to Vul. He casually snatched it from the air and frowned.

“What did you do this for? She’s annoying, sure, but that’s no reason to—”

“I did nothing. I was nearby when I sensed it happening; I merely investigated the results.

What was she doing on that island?”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“She’s been unresponsive. That’s why I’m here.”

“...I’ll see if she can be revived. I’m quite intrigued...what sort of method could—”

“Have you no concern for her? She was your student!”

“More a sycophant than a student, really. I taught her because I was curious what she would do with the power, not out of any positive regard. She’s a selfish piece of work; I save my pity for those who deserve it.”

“Your moral compass has all the consistency of a weather vane in a hurricane.”

“You flatter me, I didn’t realize I still had one.”

“Tell me when you discover what happened.”

She vanished.

Vul shivered involuntarily. “That one is…unsettling.”

He inspected the medallion that held the wounded mage. Any more damage and her soul would pass on, anchor or no anchor.

Well? He demanded

I underestimated the forest-entity. We should destroy it before it gets out of hand!

By ‘we’ you mean me? You don’t seem to be in a condition to be destroying much of anything. Vul taunted

It caught me off guard! I won’t make the same mistake again.

So, how did the forest hurt you?

…The entity destroyed my avatar. It seems to be under the control of a powerful mage. He was the one who dealt these wounds.

She showed him the appearance of the mage.

It’s not anyone I recognize. Are you certain it wasn’t an avatar? Or an illusion?

Well, no. It did seem to function like an avatar. He was able to revive from almost nothing. But I couldn’t find any anchor nor catalyst.

There are more...complicated methods. Vul mused

You told me it was the only way!

The only easy way. And you’re far easier to manage in this form, so why offer you alternatives? Did you ever find that prodigy you were whining about?

...No. She must have had some sort of help, she was completely untrained.

Or maybe she was hiding her true skill to screw with you. I know I would have.

I don’t think she was hiding anything.

Then who could have freed her? I find it hard to believe that someone pulled off a rescue that quickly. He told her.

He thought to himself, And if someone did I’d be tempted to offer them a job.

What about the other assets I had stored there? Years of work! Wasted!

Why does this have to be about you? You got outmaneuvered. Spectacularly. I only wish I'd had a seat for it. Which reminds me, I have a deal to keep with an unlucky spectator.

Wait! You still need to heal me! The voice shrieked

I think I like you better this way. It’s hard to act all uppity when you’re barely keeping it together, eh?

No, wait!— The thought shrieked before he broke the connection.

He dropped the medal in his pocket, chuckling.

The Colosseum was now empty, save for some servants cleaning the benches.

He walked over to where the loser’s broken form had been discarded.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” He chuckled

He repaired the wounds. The man sat up with a scream.

“I thought you were going to leave me like that…” The man gasped

“No, I keep my word. I would’ve either let you die or healed you...Unless of course I was to forget.” He said deviously

“You’re a monster.”

An idea struck Vul.

He wove some restrictions around the medallion.

“I’m in a good mood now, so I’ll give you a consolation prize.” He tossed the medallion to the man, who jumped back and let it fall to the ground.

He looked at it with suspicion.

“What is it?”

“An annoyance. Don’t do anything it tells you.”

“...What?”

“It’s worth a fortune to the right people. Assuming they don’t kill you for it.”

The man was torn between greed and fear.

As Vul walked away, he saw him stoop to pick it up.