“Move it! Move it! Get out here, you dogs!” The slavers' voice echoed around their small, cramped tunnel easily, and Attis knew he had no choice but to obey. Even if he wished to hold back and stay hidden within the small tunnel, the wave of bodies pushing him forward would make that difficult.

Knowing his luck, he would end up trampled under the feet of the crowd, it was better to simply shuffle along with them and head towards the daylight. They had been in utter darkness for what felt like days, the warm of daylight was likely the only pleasure he or any of the men around him would get any time soon and so Attis couldn’t fault them for rushing forward, even if he had an idea of the fate that awaited them.

 Death but in which form?

He had heard the rumours, as had every man woman and child that lived within the empire's reach and with everything he had experienced so far, Attis was beginning to believe them.

They had been taken from half a dozen different regions and towns, beaten, starved and forced to march for countless weeks until finally they were thrown into a dark cell and later dragged out one by one for their enslavement. The empire's mark of a proud eagle encircled by golden wreaths was burnt upon his neck, its soreness was something Attis could handle but the fact it had taken everything from his was a different matter entirely.

My classes, titles, and levels, all stolen by this foul sorcery, enough to make a man feel empty.

He had nothing of his old life but his name and with the blinding daylight getting ever closer, it was likely that to would end up lost.

Fucking bastards, what kind of monsters does it take to sell your own kind. To sell men, women and children.

A handful of men along with the women and children had been separated days before, leaving around a hundred or so men left, all simply waiting for their fates to be decided upon the auction block.

But with the burning daylight getting ever closer and a faint cheering beginning to accompany it, a small feeling of dread began to rise within Attis. One clearly shared by his fellow prisoners given faint murmuring and panicked looks they shared.

No one knew what fate truly awaited them, until finally Attis’ feet stepped upon the sand outside, and his eyes once again grew accustomed to the sun.

An arena.

With his left arm raised to block out the scorching sun and his eyes squinting ever so slightly, Attis turned to truly examine the arena.

Kind of lacklustre.

The arena was barely a quarter of the size he had been expecting at perhaps fifty metres wide with only a small stone wall around its outside to prevent escape. It would certainly have prevented him from climbing out but given its deteriorating state, it was possible someone with a climbing skill could easily scale it. Combined with only one row of stone seating, it didn’t give off the mighty visage he had been expecting.

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

At the opposite end, Attis could just about make out another tunnel with what looked to be a small iron gate sealing it off. Whether it was closed shut, Attis couldn’t be sure, not unless enough of the people ahead of him moved to the side.

“Don’t look so disappointed, this hole is simply to assess our value, if you survive you might get to be slaughtered out in one of the many colosseums of Rome. A glorious death.” Came a grizzled voice from Attis' right.

His words were easily enough to garner Attis’ attention but before he could move to make conversation with the older bearded man, a booming voice commandeered the attention of them all.

With the sun directly over his head, Attis could scarcely make out the man or those seated on the raised platform with him. At the minimum, he could tell that they were far better dressed than the rabble who littered the arena’s seats and far above those trapped within its walls.

Luxury toga’s but doesn’t seem that wealthy. Is he the leader of the group that captured us, I never saw his face before.

Even now, Attis seemed destined never to meet the eyes of the one who had ripped him away from his life, but at least his voice would be edged into his mind forever.

“You are men of Illyria, Thrace and countless other shitholes barely worth mentioning. You have been mercifully brought before the mighty and glorious nation of Rome, so that your pitiful lives can finally be worth something. You will serve Rome by fighting in the arena to entertain its proud citizenry.” After a small look to judge the expressions of those still seated at his sides, the man continued.

“Most of you scum I expect will die but with the gods’ blessings, some of you may arise victorious in the arena and emerge champions!” The small crowd around them erupted at his words as if attempting to make up for the stony silence of those below.

“But before your new masters can forge you into mighty gladiators, you must be bled. The foe before you will feast upon the weak, slaughter the old and raise the survivors into warriors ready for the arena. You will thrive upon these sands or die upon them. The choice is yours.” And with his speech coming to an end, the crowd once again erupted in cheers followed by quieter contained clapping from those seated upon the podium.

The games have begun.

The slavers' words made their fates clear, and Attis was far from the only one who understood the immediate danger implied by them. They would be under attack and soon.

A small thud from Attis' left soon confirmed that fact as a handful of his fellow slaves rushed to collect the two swords that had been thrown down to them.

Are we meant to fight each other?

It was clear Attis wasn’t the only one unsure of what to do next. Some of his fellows were separating themselves from the rest, others were huddled towards the back and a few of the braver ones moved to stand at the arena’s centre.

I think I see two from my village, should I stick with them.

Before he could make that decision, he lost sight of them within the huddled mass of slaves and for a moment Attis did consider joining them, but first he had to try and assess his options.

He could join the masses, huddle to the sides or join the handful at the centre. They did seem the most capable, with one standing out among the rest, he had short brown hair, an angular chiselled jaw and powerful muscles which only made the now bloody sword in his hands an even more dangerous weapon.

But as the man turned to meet Attis’ eyes, the idea of joining them vanished.

He must have had combat classes. Definitely the last place I want to be if it’s a free-for-all.

The better option seemed to be staying where he was, far enough from the crowds but not so far that he couldn’t rush back should the worse happen. It wasn’t a strategy exclusive to simply him however, there were a few men simply stood around him in a variety of states, some nervous, some clearly fearful whilst others stood around calmly as if they had stopped caring what happened to them.

Yet, the one who took Attis’ attention the most was the older man from before, the greyed man was stood ready and waiting with a small pile of sand clasped tightly within his hand.

Clever.

Attis quickly rushed to copy, and not a second too soon, as a moment later, the sound of screeching metal erupted from the exit opposite him.

Their opponent had arrived.