Kalen and his team filtered out of the gate, making it a few steps into the sand before the jaunty voice of the announcer washed over the arena.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of Whitefinger! Today we have quite a special match for your viewing pleasures. With twenty gladiators pitted up against each other, it’s an Open Brawl…with a twist!”

Near the wall of the arena with equal distance to both groups sand suddenly started to fall inward. A hollow had opened, pulling the ground over there apart.

Spurred by unseen machinations, a platform revealed itself from out of the hole, supporting a pedestal that marked the location of the match’s objective. A short sword that rested on top of its face.

Besides a gleaming white blade, it bore a series lines down the face of its blade that differentiated it from the gladius sword Kalen had wielded in his last fight.

The light emitting from the inscriptions was clear even from where Kalen’s team was. As soon as the sword was visible, a round of dramatic gasps escaped from the stands closest to the object.

‘It’s an impressive sword, but is the pit necessary? I imagine there's more than one person working pulleys in the underground beneath it, just for this effect.’

Once again it occurred to Kalen to what lengths the arena went for the sake of entertaining its patrons.

“Thaaaaaat’s right! Today’s gladiators will compete to claim the sword before them. Securing victory if they can hold onto it for a minute! But as you can see, that’s no ordinary sword, it’s an inscribed weapon! The work of a powerful sorcerer which can allow mortals to wield the abilities of mages! Citizens of Whitefinger, you’re in for quite the show today!”

Kalen squinted his eyes in the sunlight as the crowd went wild. The announcer’s words clearly had provoked quite the response. Even his own team was looking at the sword with more interest now.

Kalen was in no position to judge them, as he was doing the same.

‘Is it an over-exaggeration, or a lie? I can’t imagine a single sword or any item being as powerful as he was…?’

Yet Kalen also lacked any information.

Maybe someone like Wellynd would know, he wondered. But to someone who had lived secluded in a village all his life, the sword was just as unknown a variable as a mage.

The memory of the Eagles’ leader torching a row of slaves effortlessly briefly flashed through Kalen’s mind.

Yes, even if the item was a level or two below that power, he knew they still had to prioritize getting their hands on it first.

“Gladiators! Are you ready?”

The twenty people gathered in the sands of the arena felt their bodies tense. At once, they all jabbed their armaments toward the sky.

“Good! Citizens of Whitefinger, are you ready?”

That was no question that needed an answer. The arena was filled with a deafening cry as the audience roared.

“...Then fight!”

The announcer’s voice spurred them on.

At once, Kalen’s team fanned out, approaching the others who were doing the same.

Luckily, both of the teams were made to be distinguishable from each other. Partially for the sake of the gladiators themselves, but mostly for the audience viewing from above.

Each member wore either a yellow or green cloth tied around their arm, at the gap of mail below their pauldrons.

Because everyone was wearing a visored cassis over their face, this was the only way for Kalen to distinguish his team members once the fighting started.

“Gah!”

Kalen ran forward alongside his team, meeting the other team at the center of the arena, still a distance from the objective.

As soon as the two groups collided with each other though, Kalen was forced to dodge back

An enemy gladiator wearing a green armband had jumped at him as soon as they neared, thrusting forward with his spear at the center of Kalen’s chest.

Kalen immediately tried to turn, holding the shaft of his spear in his hands, he pushed the extended weapon away from himself.

CLACK

“Damn!”

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The other man cursed, readying his spear again, he attacked.

Kalen was pushed to the defensive, being pummeled back as the occasional swipe he failed to miss skirted across his chainmail.

‘I’m at a disadvantage. I don’t know a thing about spears, but it looks like everyone else is experienced with them. If I had a shield…’

But he didn’t. Kalen continued to get beat up as he failed to block the occasional thrust. Most were reflected by his mail undershirt, while others were not so lucky.

Bit by bit, the fighting got closer to the pedestal.

“ARGH!”

‘Who-?’

Several members of Kalen’s team let their attention be swayed for a moment as someone was pierced through the chest.

Dread fell upon Kalen and the other members, seeing that it was one of their own.

In just minutes after the fight had started, they had already lost some ground.

Kalen gritted his teeth and continued to defend.

The objective was even more important now. Kalen didn’t know what it could do, but even being able to fight with a sword instead of a spear was enough of an incentive to move closer.

CLANG

“Mhmphf!”

Kalen cried out as the pole-end of a spear cracked against his helmet.

His opponent had taken an opportunity of distraction to slip away from Kalen’s hold on his weapon, spinning around to bludgeon him with the shaft.

Kalen backed up involuntarily in a daze, seeing stars from the recoil of a dent left in his helmet.

The equipment they had been given were largely pieces of shit after all.

The metal of his cassis bending as easily as parchment was a clear critical flaw when it came to protecting his head.

And the spear had slammed right into his still-healing wound, prompting a warm feeling to coat the side of Kalen’s cheek.

‘This is a stalemate! We’re going to lose if no one leaves this formation!’

The problem they were facing was the result of their planning.

In the room before the gate, Kalen had overheard the loose framework of their plan that they had made after hearing the attendant’s explanation.

And it was the reason they were being killed off right now.

Basically, they didn’t want to rush straight to the objective item, but to stall the other team for as long as possible while they weakened them. It was known by the more experienced senior gladiators that the arena secretly awarded the winning team more points if they were able to win without many casualties.

For the sake of minimizing costs, this was in the arena’s interests, though they didn’t publicize it for the sake of not boring audiences.

Because of this the obvious strategy was actually the less efficient one for those who were confident in their strength and wanted more points. So they had avoided speaking to Kalen at all as they figured a newbie who had only been at the arena for a couple of days wouldn’t see the advantages.

Yet some had clearly been overconfident in their strength, and had cost the team. They had paid the price as their bodies currently littered the sands.

“Agchk!”

“Damn you!”

More men were speared down or cut through the openings in their armor as the fight went on. Yet because of their defensive strategy, Kalen’s team still sustained more casualties.

Kalen had a hard time keeping up as well, as he began to receive more wounds from his opponent, while he had barely been able to touch him with the spear.

His inability to go on the offensive contributed to his growing restlessness. Making Kalen think about his team as he defended himself.

‘Are they still planning on continuing this plan? There’s only seven of us left!’

Their seven against the eight on the other team. Several had fallen, but they were still outnumbered.

“Ah!”

Kalen shouted as another jab plunged into his side. The crowd roared.

This one wasn’t even from his opponent, but from someone else who was fighting one of the gladiators on Kalen’s team.

He had just happened to see Kalen expose a weakness, and took it.

The speartip had gone right through his side with next to no resistance, causing more injuries as it was pulled out just as fast. Kalen felt like a bottle uncorked, as a stream of warmth flowed from where he had been stabbed.

The chainmail around Kalen’s midsection prevented slashes in most cases, but was practically useless against penetrative stabs.

‘I-I can’t. I have to go for it!’

Clutching his side, Kalen threw his spear with reckless abandon at the other gladiator, who deftly rolled under it with ease. Since the new batch of slaves were actually the minority in the arena now, everyone else in this match was made up of the senior gladiators and were more experienced than Kalen.

It was a cinch for his opponent to dodge Kalen’s poorly-tossed spear.

But Kalen didn’t plan on staying. As soon as the shaft left his hands, he turned and ran toward the wall of the arena.

Members of his team were fighting all along it, and as soon as he approached without another opponent, he was spotted by the unoccupied member of the enemy team.

‘Why hasn’t he grabbed it yet?’

Kalen’s eyes widened as he saw the gladius was still affixed to its stand on the pedestal.

Multiple groups were fighting around it, but no one had grabbed it yet? Why?

Kalen had no idea, but couldn’t stop running now, not with his opponent behind him and the man in front.

“Hah!”

The enemy swiped in front of him with his halberd, which Kalen was forced to duck to avoid.

Still, he ran past, jumping up to the pedestal just in time as his other opponent arrived.

“Gotcha!”

Kalen’s fingers wrapped around the grip of the inscribed gladius.

Immediately, the surroundings exploded with white light.