Clnk. Clnk.

Metal rattled upon metal, and a bestial breath drew through a massive chest.

Then came the smell.

“Oh…” Wurhi’s eyes widened. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Merrick demanded from behind her. “What’s-”

A mountain began to materialize in the black, sheathed in the gleam of bronze.

“…oh gods,” Merrick’s groan was that of a dying man.

Milos’ beast-man loomed from the passage like a metal-clad fortress.

Its girdle had been supplemented by an entire armoury. Bronze sheathed its form: a gleaming coif covered its head - leaving its ruddy face bare - layers of bronze chain buried its torso and chainmail chausses draped over lanky legs. The weight of such armour would have flattened the strongest of men, yet the beast’s liquid movement hardly slowed.

In one hand it bore its massive bronze club while the other clutched a shield that could have served as a courtyard’s gate. A familiar object was shoved carelessly through its broad belt: Wurhi’s sword, the jewelled hilt glittering even in this poor light.

The beast’s lips coiled back in a snarling grimace as it raised its shield and club high.

Its roar struck the arena.

The crowd answered.

“…he means to kill us.” Agron murmured through fraying nerves. “We couldn’t get through all that with a ballista!”

Saxa trembled like a frightened finch. “We’ll have our guts torn out for hurting one of his precious pets!”

“Calm!” Crixus barked. “Did any of you listen to Lord Milos? We don’t have to beat it! If we perform well enough, we will please Lycundar and we can live!”

“Oh, that’s bloody comforting!” Merrick spat.

“Enough! Now scatter!” the Garumnan ordered. “If he lowers that shield and charges, he’ll crush us! Surround and confuse him!”

The formation broke apart like fleeing mice, but Wurhi’s eyes were fixed upon her sword. If she could-

“Little things.”

The beast-man’s guttural words cut through her thoughts.

Its eyes followed the fighters as they spread.

A horrible sound - rasping and thundering - issued from its throat to shudder its body and rattle its chain: a perverted mockery of human mirth.

Its ruddy lips twisted. Its body tensed. “Run.”

The beast-man exploded into a storm of violent motion.

An avalanche of bronze and muscle came barreling toward Crixus, propelled by long legs that burst across the earth as quickly as any steed. With a simian cry, it swung the club above its head in a wide circle.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh!

The battering-ram like weapon cut the wind like sand in a desert storm.

Crixus cursed and leapt back.

Whoosh!

It fell like a thunderbolt.

Thoom!

Grit sprayed from where the club struck the earth, stinging the Garumnan’s skin. The bald man had barely avoided the stroke, but his towering opponent moved devilishly quick and swept the club to the side.

Whoosh!

Crixus stumbled just out of its terrible reach.

Whoosh! Bang! Whoosh! Whoosh!

The beast-man struck sand and air as it chased its scampering prey.

Crack!

Bronze clipped Crixus’ spear, snapping it in half and forcing the wreckage from his grip.

“He’s in trouble!” Agron roared. “Get it from behind!”

He rushed forward with Saxa and Gannicus, but the newest pit-fighters dropped their weapons and ran screaming toward the opposite end of the arena.

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Whoosh!

Crixus barely ducked beneath a sideways swing. His breath came hard and fast while his face had washed red from exertion. He continued to back away, but the arena’s edge - with its spear wielding acolytes - loomed behind him.

Whoosh! Bang!

He leapt past the club, trying to dart around the beast as the weapon ploughed into the sand.

Whish! Thm!

“Agh!” he cried.

The beast-man's armoured leg swept his shins, sending the big man sprawling to the ground. He fought to rise, but a massive, bronze-clad foot pressed down on his back, pinning him to the earth.

“Crixus!” Agron cried.

The beast-man raised its club: poised for the final, crushing blow.

It looked up; its simian eyes focused on its master. Milos raised a hand. “What say you, acolytes? Did he fight well today? Did he survive as Lycundar would wish?”

A mighty cheer answered, punctuated by thunderous applause and stomping feet.

Milos held up his palms. “I am in agreement, my pack brothers. You have fought well, Crixus of Garumna.”

His fist rose above his head, with thumb extended skyward. “I grant you life and honour. Release him, my pet.”

Giving a satisfied grunt, the beast-man raised its foot from the coughing Garumnan’s back and stepped away, turning to the crowd and thrusting its weapon and shield high.

It roared in triumph. The mob roared with it.

Crixus rolled onto his side with eyes bulging and breath gasping like a hooked fish on a wharf. Between ragged breaths, he faced Milos and choked out: “Th-thank…you…Sacred Alpha.”

“Thank only Lycundar.” Milos smiled coldly. “Go now. Stand to the side.”

Wurhi’s eyes narrowed at her blade glinting on the beast’s belt. Letting her guard down around these bastards had cost her the bones in her hand: her sword would be her salvation, not the fickle will of wolf-devils.

The beast-man savoured its victory cry and slowly turned to the pit fighters. Nostrils flared and breath blew between simian fangs.

“Shit,” she cursed.

Thud.

Her shield fell to the ground.

Clatter.

Then her helm.

Thin wood and metal would not stop this armoured monstrosity. They would only slow her down.

The beast-man’s hideous laugh boomed above the crowd’s roar.

It catapulted forward.

Thm! Thm! Thm! Thm!

Armoured legs churned the sand. Its shield rose before it like a battering ram. Hungry breaths stoked its charge as it blurred across the arena, ignoring the scattered pit fighters.

Agron let loose a battle cry, leaping forward and jabbing his spear into its flank, but the point caught between the many layers of bronze and deflected off the gleaming surface. The beast did not spare him a single glance.

Its eyes were fixed on the ones who had dropped their weapons and fled.

The hapless runners screeched and struggled to escape, but to no avail. One leapt toward the arena’s wall and died with a dozen spears skewering his chest. The other thought to run past the monster and gamble at safety with the remaining fighters, but the beast-man deftly spun as though it were a lithe dancer before a Yamaputran Raja.

It bore down on the screaming man and barrelled into him shield first, sweeping him from his scrabbling feet and-

Boom! Crunch!

-mangling him between shield and wall. The crowd roared in triumph over the sickening crunch.

“Oh shit,” Wurhi grimaced, reminded of St. Cristabel flattening the werewolves in Paradise. Unfortunately, unlike them, this poor man would not be regenerating from his wounds in this lifetime. As the beast-man pulled away, the grisly remains slid down both wall and shield, spattering the earth in spreading gore and rising steam. Behind Wurhi, Saxa retched her guts out.

Spinning about, the beast-man surged toward the remaining newcomer, who could only watch his oncoming doom - hypnotized by primordial fear. The club whipped about the roaring ape’s head and swept toward the man.

Whoosh! Crnch!

It collided, grinding his ribs to splinters and blowing his lungs apart; crimson fountained through teeth as he crashed to the dirt. His form twitched its last even as his slayer turned to find more victims. Its eyes were alive with human bloodlust and animal hunger as red dripped from both club and shield.

“What the hell do we do!?” Agron whirled on Crixus. “Tell me, what the hell do we do!?”

The bald man stared on helplessly, with mouth opening and closing.

“Shit! Look alive!” Merrick shouted. “It’s moving again!”

Stalking forward with a snarling leer, the beast-man playfully passed its terrible mass from one foot to the other.

Thm! Thm! Thm!

It bashed the club against its reddened shield and whooped out a gleeful challenge.

“…oh piss!” The Hawk raised his spear. “What if we come at it from all sides and aim for its filthy face!?”

“Damn that plan! This thing turns twice as fast as that man-lion!” Gannicus edged back, eager to put someone between him and their titanic foe. “And the Rat’s down a hand!”

“M-Merrick’s right,” Saxa stammered. “If we don’t come together it’ll smash us one by one!”

“If we come together it’ll smash us in a single swing!”

Wurhi’s teeth ground. Cold sweat damped her flesh and her panicked heart felt as though it would claw its way from her chest. This wasn’t going to work. Crixus - by far the most skilled of them - had barely survived the beast-man’s onslaught.

She threw a quick look at Milos, coolly watching from on high. Doubtless, the mangy bastard had instructed his pet not to test his favoured fighter too vigorously; the beast had shown far greater abandon when running down the others.

With the speed of its weapon and its reach, it could strike down half of them with…

…a single…

Her eyes widened.

Its reach.

Those unnaturally long limbs and massive weapon could out-range any of their spears. An incredible strength to be sure, but could it not also be a weakness? Her mind drifted back to a snowy day - the last time Kyembe had instructed her:

“You need to respect your opponent’s blade while turning each defence into a counter.”

“You need to get under my guard!”

“My reach is twice yours; I would kill you at this distance! Close with me!”

His words returned to her, reminding her that - with her stature - she needed to get beneath his guard. There, she would avoid his strikes while leaving him vulnerable to her own. The same applied to this beast-man: the ape’s colossal arms could crush any opponent that tried to close…but if one managed it?

She swallowed and drew herself to full height; her belly twisted from what she was about to do. This would be a matter of swiftness: if she could slip past the beast’s lengthy limbs and razored reflexes, then her sword would await.

If she could not?

She glanced to the red smear against the wall. A shudder coursed through her.

It would be a gamble: the greatest she had taken since throwing in with the Sengezian in Zabyalla. Her cracked lips pulled back from her teeth.

But, as Ippolyte knew well, there was a reason Wurhi the Rat won her wagers.

The beast stirred within her.

She cheated.