The sound of twenty swords being pulled from their scabbards and sheathes could only just be heard beneath the overwhelming noise of the excited crowd.

After Gideon pulled out his claymore, he took a few cautious steps backwards, hoping to let the other fighters make themselves seem like easier targets. The quickest and easiest way to lose would be to allow himself to get cornered by multiple attackers. As if to confirm this, within seconds there were five separate fights going on between the other fighters, and only one of them was a one versus one affair. It was immediately obvious that many of the fighters had agreed to team up beforehand, just as Gideon and Romus had.

It was sheer dumb luck that none of the other fighters came for Gideon. Off to his right, Romus had also lucked out and pulled the only duel. He was fighting a saber-wielding Levidian about the same size as him, who was swinging with reckless abandon at Romus’s shield and accomplishing very little beyond making loud clanking noises. The Levidian already looked frustrated, and Gideon had no doubts about how their fight would turn out.

The sounds of clashing metal and shouting men, diminished beneath the crowd's din, rang out all around Gideon. He opted to continue standing back until the fights played themselves out. If the other fighters were going to leave him alone to focus on each other then he saw no reason to interrupt them.

On the far side of the arena, the barrel chested Losoan had teamed up with another Losoan against a tall Levidian wielding a broadsword and shield. Gideon watched as the Levidian, blocking blows from both of his opponents with his shield, lost his footing and stumbled backwards. The barrel chested Losoan was on top of him immediately, swinging his scimitar down in a swift overhead swing that sliced open the Levidian’s neck.

Blood sprayed from the Levidian's wound in a wide arc as he crumpled to the ground, bleeding all over himself and the arena’s sand as he writhed about in muted agony. Gideon heard some in the crowd express their delight with whistles and claps.

The Losoan was brimming with newfound confidence as he turned towards Gideon. When they made eye contact, the Losoan bared his teeth with fury and took off towards Gideon at a sprint, closing the distance between them with long legged strides. Gideon's heart began to pound in his ears as it became clear he had a fight on his hands.

In a split second, Gideon was totally focused on the Losoan, and utterly determined. He slid his left foot forward and bent slightly at the knees, readying his claymore for a horizontal swing. It was impossible for the Losoan to have mistaken what Gideon intended to do, but he did not slow down. When he was within ten feet, he began to sprint even faster and let out a dramatic shout, bringing his right arm back for an overhead swing.

At first, Gideon thought that the Losoan’s reckless charge was an elaborate feint; an attempt to bait him into a fruitless attack that would force him to give up the initiative and put him at a disadvantage. He couldn’t believe that the Losoan really was thoughtlessly bull-rushing him until he saw the arm going back. In the split second it took for the Losoan to raise his arm, Gideon realized that the obvious attack he was telegraphing was real, and that the fight was already over.

Nearly a decade ago, when Gideon had first chosen to train with a claymore, he'd quickly discovered that there were many common misconceptions about them held by other fighters. They widely believed that claymores were only useful for their intimidation factor; that they were too heavy and unwieldy to compete with the versatility of smaller swords. But because of their weight, claymores were much better at penetrating chainmail if a full power swing or thrust could be brought to bear. The second advantage, arguably more important than the first, was the claymore's reach. It was the type of advantage that anyone would find obvious, even the completely inexperienced, but the experienced understood that the every single inch of a blade was dangerous. Claymores were often more than forty inches long, and each individual inch was lethal in the right hands.

Gideon immediately decided to rely on reach for the Losoan. He paid strict attention to the angle and range of the raised scimitar as the Losoan closed the remaining distance between them. When the Losoan was four feet away, one foot before he would be in range to bring his swing down, Gideon fired his own swing up at the scimitar with the speed of a well-practiced professional.

Just after the Losoan’s swing began to come down, the tip of Gideon’s claymore struck the scimitar’s blade, sending it flying out of the Losoan’s grasp. His eyes barely had time to register his shock when in one smooth motion Gideon pulled his claymore out of the parry and took a step forward with his right foot, thrusting his claymore into the dead center of the Losoan’s chest and running him through.

The Losoan died instantly, but his momentum carried his body into a frontal collision with Gideon. At the last second he managed to bring his right shoulder down to meet the charging corpse, grunting in pain as he collided with it. His claymore threatened to jump out of his hands during the collision, and he gripped it as hard as he could to maintain control over it while taking several unsteady steps backwards.

With its momentum finally spent, Gideon yanked his claymore out of the corpse, dumping it to the floor. His heart was pounding in his ears as he looked down at the dead Losoan with baffled amazement, wondering what he’d been thinking.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and snapped back to attention. It was Romus, apparently victorious, walking up with his sword and shield lowered.

Romus stopped just out of range of Gideon’s claymore, and looked down at the Losoan’s corpse with a cheeky smirk.

“Mine was a sight better’n yers.”

Annoyed, Gideon was about to reply when a ghastly scream pierced the noise of the crowd and the continued fighting. Gideon, Romus, and the thousands of people in the stands turned their heads in surprise towards the source of the noise.

The scream had come from one of the men who had been ganged up on at the start of the melee. A strapping Easterner, wielding a jian and fending off two Levidians. Gideon watched as the Easterner screamed again and pounced with unnatural speed at the closest Levidian, swinging his jian in a blazingly fast horizontal swipe that split open the Levidian’s belly. The man’s agonized scream was cut short when the Easterner swung his jian again and severed the man’s head clean from his body.

After the Easterner’s first unsettling scream had rent the air, the other fights had continued unabated. But after the second scream, the other fighters stopped mid battle. All eyes in the arena became glued to the Easterner as he squatted down over the headless corpse and began to chop at it, turning it into a bloody pulp with strange, bestial grunts. The crowd’s roar ended, replaced with startled murmuring as they watched him turn the body into mincemeat.

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Gideon was simply confused as he watched the Easterner swing down at the body again and again, splattering himself and the arena’s sand around him with blood.

“The fuck’s goin’ on?” Romus drawled.

The second Levidian who'd been fighting the Easterner looked horrified as the corpse of his fallen partner was butchered. He began to inch backwards, his sword raised in front of him. Something in his movement drew the Easterner’s attention, and he sprang out of his crouch with the agility of a leopard.

Gideon got a good look at the Easterner’s face as he moved to attack the second Levidian. It was flushed cherry red, and his pupils were heavily dilated. Wild bloodlust was in his eyes.

The Easterner began a furious assault on the second Levidian as the entire arena looked on. The Levidian quickly demonstrated he was not inexperienced. He managed to parry or deflect the Easterner’s blows despite the extreme power being put into them. The Easterner seemed to have an almost surreal amount of strength, but there was no technique in his attacks or movements: he was subduing the Levidian through the sheer strength and amount of his potent attacks.

The Levidian began to slow, losing the strength to keep up with his opponent as he was worn down by an unending rain of blows. In the end, he failed to raise his sword in time for a parry, and the Easterner’s jian swung down, cutting the man’s sword hand off. He watched with astonishment as his severed hand hit the ground. The Easterner took his jian in both hands and brought it down squarely onto his head, cleaving his skull in two straight down the middle all the way to his chin.

A shower of blood and pieces of hairy scalp and brain matter went flying in all directions. The Easterner ripped his jian out of the man’s skull, and the corpse hit the ground with a heavy thud, brains spilling out onto the arena's sand.

The crowd gasped in shock and horror as the Easterner began to butcher the new corpse in the same way as the first. The other fighters began to back away in the direction of the hypogeum, all of them ready to run if the Easterner showed any sign of coming after them.

Romus was giving up, too. “Screw it! I ain’t fuckin’ with no tweaker!”

He turned and ran towards the hypogeum. At the sight of Romus running a few of the other men also set to flight, and soon everyone was sprinting towards the hypogeum—all except for Gideon.

The Easterner stood up and looked around at the fleeing men with his chest heaving and his mouth hanging open, panting like a beast. His gaze fell on Gideon.

A surge of intense fear clutched at his heart as he stared at the Easterner. Impulsively, he entered the Window guard, issuing a challenge by taking a fighting stance. The Easterner took off with a roar, his arms pumping at full tilt as he bounded towards Gideon.

I shouldn’t do this. I can’t beat him. I don’t really want to die.

He pushed his thoughts deep down and exhaled hard as he readied himself. His desire to stand and fight was stronger than his fear. The Easterner's power was simply unfair—it made no sense—but Gideon could not will himself to run away. It would be tantamount to admitting he wasn't strong enough to solve his problems on his own, that he couldn't stand against the unjustness of the world without relying on others. If the Easterner wanted him dead, he would have to earn it.

He was on top of Gideon in the blink of an eye. The Easterner grunted, savage and bestial, as he made a lightning fast thrust at Gideon’s head. He reacted to it just in time, parrying it away as he took a few steps backwards. Many openings appeared and he tried to riposte, but the Easterner batted away Gideon's strike.

Gideon backed up much faster now, giving up ground to try and contain the Easterner in the sweet spot between the jian’s reach and the longer reach of his claymore, but the Easterner’s aggression was unparalleled. His jian seemed to be everywhere, swinging in all directions, parrying or blocking all of Gideon’s attacks in between launching his own, pushing closer with outrageous recklessness. Openings appeared in all of the Easterner’s attacks, but each time Gideon swung at one of them the jian appeared to stop him.

Sweat began to sting Gideon’s eyes, and his hands were becoming numb from the force of the blows they were absorbing through the claymore.

This isn’t working!

Gideon leapt backwards and brought his claymore down into the Fool’s guard. If he couldn’t gain control of the fight, then he would have to try something risky.

The Easterner shrieked as he pounced, swinging his jian horizontally from right to left. Instead of parrying the attack, Gideon dodged, leaning away from the jian with inches to spare. As he leaned out of the way, he swung his claymore up at the Easterner’s forearm, and missed.

On instinct, he rolled to the left, avoiding the Easterner's follow up downward swing just in time. Panicking, Gideon scooped his left hand into the arena’s sand and flung it into the Easterner’s face.

He hissed indignantly as he stumbled backwards, clawing at his eyes with his free hand. Gideon leapt to his feet and sprinted after him.

Gideon pressed the attack, forcing the Easterner back as he attempted to overwhelm him. As Gideon rained blows down on him, the Easterner gradually began to slow down, finally running out of whatever was giving him his unnatural strength and speed. But Gideon was now nearly exhausted as well.

Panting heavily, Gideon stopped pressuring the Easterner and took a few steps back, returning to the Fool's guard. The Easterner stopped backing up and stood where he was, practically hyperventilating as he stared wide-eyed at Gideon. They were both too tired to keep it up for much longer, but the wild bloodlust on the Easterner's face had lost none of its fierceness.

This is it.

The Easterner let out a tremendous roar and rushed towards Gideon. When the Easterner was in range, Gideon fired off another horizontal swing, the fastest he'd made yet.

Gideon dodged the Easterner's swing by less than an inch. As he dodged, he swung his claymore up at the Easterner’s forearm once again, putting all of his might into it.

The claymore’s tip cut deep into the Easterner’s forearm, a few inches below the wrist. As he watched the swing connect, Gideon felt elated—and then something slammed into the side of his face.

Gideon was knocked to the ground, stunned. His ear was ringing painfully, and when he opened his eyes he saw double. Slowly, he realized what has just happened. The Easterner had landed a ferocious punch in the opening Gideon had left to pull off the swing.

He found it hard to focus on the Easterner as he towered above him, but he didn’t need to focus to understand that he was experiencing the last moments of his life.

As the Easterner heaved his right arm up to kill Gideon, what little was left of the skin and muscle keeping his hand attached to his forearm tore off from the violent motion. His hand tumbled to the sand over his shoulder, still gripping the jian.

The Easterner screamed with inarticulate rage and sank to his knees, cradling his forearm as the stump shot blood out onto the sand. Gideon pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, his head pounding with excruciating pain.

He brought his claymore up over his head with both hands, and with a loud grunt he brought it down onto the Easterner’s neck. The strike severed his head from his body, and it spilled onto the sand before his slumped-over corpse.

Gideon let out a ragged sigh as he looked down at the severed head of the strongest man he’d ever fought. It was over. Somehow, he’d made it.