Even from inside the tunnel, the roar of the crowd at the opening announcements had Terran’s heart racing. Even El looked affected by the cacophony, speaking quietly to himself as he rotated his shoulders and stretched his legs. It was only in this moment that Terran realized how big and muscled El was.
The guard at the front of the tunnel motioned for Smollette. “You’re almost up.”
The smaller gladiator took two steps then vomited in the sand.
“Won’t be the only fluids you leave in the sand tonight,” said the guard.
The tunnel echoed with the first fight announcement, after which Smollette jogged into the Arena to the cheers and jeers of the crowd.
“Come on,” said El, moving next to the guard. “Let’s watch. Give you a chance to see what you’re dealing with.”
The Arena floor was a wide area, completely flat, covered in hard sand, and ringed by bleachers. A twenty-foot wall circled the fighting space, and residents of Dagrath, cheering for the night’s festivities, packed the stands. Terran caught the metallic scent of old blood and body odor.
“You see Smollette facing his opponent? You’ll stand that way until the dedications, during which you’ll salute the leaders of the city, who sit in those boxes up there,” said El, gesturing towards the colorful area near the top of the Arena. “Once they blow the horn, the fight is on. If they blow it twice, the match is over. Everything between is raw fear.”
The keen-eyed El flared his nostrils as he looked across the sands of the Arena. Terran used the moment to analyze the two combatants still facing each other.
Smollette Green [Gladiator] - Level 4
The Noxious One [Elite Gladiator] - Level 17
Terran shook his head. “This is going to be a slaughter. The Noxious One has thirteen levels on him.”
El squinted. “I forgot you Offworlders can see things like that.” He paused. “What level am...no, never mind. It’s a thing I do not wish to know. I fear it would limit me rather than lift me up.”
El’Kar Khidenthrust [Elite Gladiator] - Level 21
“If you change your mind, let me know,” said Terran, right as the first horn blew. He focused on the combatants, especially the Noxious One. Smollette’s opponent wore torn rags over black armor and helm. The taller, more experienced gladiator played to the crowd, swinging the ball of his flail over his head menacingly. Across from him, Smollette gripped his sword as if he were strangling a snake.
“He’s leaning too far forward, off-balance and tight. Noxious is overconfident. He could win this if he wasn’t so afraid of his opponent,” said El.
“A gardener, huh?”
El chuckled, his tusks shaking with mirth. “War makes soldiers out of everyone.”
Noxious One sprung forward, his speeding flail headed right for Smollette’s head. The lesser gladiator managed to throw himself out of the way, scrambling back to his feet with the sword still in his double-fisted grip.
“Ungraceful but it got the job done,” said El.
The black-clad gladiator continued his inexorable advance, the head of his weapon in constant motion, marching forward like an automaton of death. Smollette made one tentative stab with his sword, but it was deflected away.
Terran thought the fight might continue in such fashion, but when the crowd’s frenzied cries dimmed, Noxious One stopped and faced the crowd with his arms up, while Smollette cowered some distance away. The black-clad gladiator pulled something out of a hidden pocket, dousing the spiked end of his weapon with whatever it was. A greenish smoke drifted from his weapon, while the crowd raised their voices.
“Poison?” asked Terran.
“Bladdermoss acid. It’ll make your skin bubble and your eyes bleed,” said El. “Noxious has somehow built up a tolerance to it, though it cost him. He only takes off his armor in his apartments because his flesh is ruined.”
Noxious One resumed his attacks on Smollette which eventually trapped him in a cloud of acid. When it drifted over the smaller gladiator, his hand went to his eyes and he bent over coughing.
“It’s over now.”
The crunch of a flail ended the fight, leaving the crowd to go wild. While attendants ran onto the sand to remove the body, Terran asked his companion, “Anything you can tell me about Behemoth?”
“Big and slow for the most part, but he can make quick lunges, much further and faster than you think. He’ll try and bait you into his range, because if he gets ahold of you, you’re probably dead,” said El.
“Thanks, El,” said Terran. “Also, if I want to fight with True Death, how do I do that?”
El furrowed his brow. “You know that being an Offworlder doesn’t protect you.”
“I am aware,” said Terran. “If I’m stuck here much longer then bad things will happen, so I need to Run the Gauntlet as soon as possible. You said make a splash.”
“Tell the guard,” said El, gesturing forward with a flat stare. “Fight well.”
“I plan on it.” When he reached the guard, he cleared his throat. “I wish the battle to be True Death.”
The guard raised his eyebrow and shrugged as if to say, your funeral. “How do you wish to be announced?”
A myriad of titles went through his mind, but he quickly settled on “Terran the Tenacious.”
“Go on then,” said the guard.
Stepping onto the sand of the Arena brought thousands of eyes upon him, an intensity of focus that he’d never experienced before. He’d overcome his stage fright for singing in front of others, but that had only been a dozen Rock Leaf Elves, while the stands were filled with thousands of bloodthirsty patrons hoping to see him die.
Terran, came Luna’s voice in his head. He kept moving forward but scanned the bleachers, finally seeing his companion near the wall, along with Zara and one other. When he realized it was Della his stomach dropped into his knees. Are you well?
I’m alive, he said back, adding “for now” to himself.
We don’t know how to free you, said Luna.
I have a plan, but it’s going to be difficult, said Terran. I’ll explain after the fight.
Terran had been the first to walk onto the sands. The crowd had barely reacted to his arrival except for a few people that shouted, “You’re gonna die!” and other taunts. He took his spot at the center of the Arena, noting the bloody sand near his location. Searching for the oligarchs’ seating area had him occupied when Behemoth entered the grounds, but a cheer went up immediately, drawing his notice.
His opponent ducked through the gate, which nearly went to the top of the wall, waving to the adoring fans as he strode across the sands with long, surprisingly healthy strides. Behemoth was a boulder with legs. The physical impossibility of his opponent left him stunned. The vague plan that had been bouncing around in his head evaporated like mist at noon.
Behemoth [Elite Gladiator] - Level 23
By the time Behemoth reached the center of the Arena, Terran had to lean his head back to see his opponent. Not only was he an elite gladiator, but he was six levels above Terran, which would make his attacks less powerful.
“Greetings, little man,” said the Behemoth in a booming voice. “This is first for me, my opponent calling for True Death. No matter. I will smash your bones into dust.”
Terran cleared his throat. “That was going to be my line.”
Behemoth’s enormous body shook with laughter. “I’ll feast tonight in your honor.”
Further banter ended when the announcer beneath the oligarchs’ box shouted into the Arena, his voice echoing with the power of magic.
“Tonight’s second match will be fought between a crowd favorite Behemoth!” He paused to let the crowd erupt with cheers, which went on for a good thirty seconds. “And his opponent, Terran the Tenacious!” Except for his companions at the wall, there was little more than polite applause. “This match will be fought for True Death!” A murmur of surprise went through the crowd. The news was obviously unexpected, but not unheard of, but
their attitude changed the moment the announcer added, “True Death was requested by the challenger!”
If he’d been hoping for a reaction, he got it. The entire crowd, those that weren’t already there, rose to their feet. This was a twist they’d not yet encountered, and if it wasn’t for the fact that it was his life on the line, he would have been quite proud of himself. The announcer said something else, but he wasn’t paying attention, and bowed to Behemoth when he bent at the waist. Then matching positions, they bowed to the leaders of the city. While Terran was too far away to see expressions, he knew that Estabario was in that box with Graffel and Nostram. He was so busy trying to see them he almost moved too slow when the first horn sounded.
Behemoth, that boulder with legs, moved like one hurling down a mountain. Terran had seen immersives of sumo wrestlers in the ring, and while Behemoth weighed as much as a whole team, he moved like the smallest one. Terran threw himself out of the way, narrowly avoiding getting trampled as his opponent rumbled past, catching sand in the face, kicked in passing. Only the arm-to-body ratio kept Behemoth from capturing him on his passing charge.
“I’m fighting a human T. rex,” said Terran, rolling onto his feet.
Before he’d entered the Arena, a dozen strategies had bounced through his head, most of them involving a slow fight using his voice to whittle down his opponent for the victory. It was the sure win, but he wasn’t only fighting Behemoth, but the crowd’s favor. He needed a quick victory, one with maximum shock value.
The giant gladiator made a slow turn like a ship on the ocean changing course. The consequences of momentum gave Terran an open shot at his back, so he ran right towards it, bringing a series of three stone walls into existence, one slightly taller than the next, giving him a set of stairs, which he ran up until he launched himself through the air, landing on Behemoth’s exposed back.
The crowd, which was already on its feet, hushed with surprise. Even Behemoth didn’t quite know what to do. This was probably the last thing his opponent thought would happen.
Behemoth wore light leather armor. Terran hooked his hands into the back of the neck, holding on for dear life as Behemoth whirled, trying to reach behind him to grab Terran. But it wasn’t enough to confuse and confound the gladiator, he had to win.
“Come here, you little runt,” said Behemoth, grunting as he slapped at his own shoulders. “I’m gonna turn you into dust.”
Holding on as his body swung across the Behemoth’s back, Terran said, “I told you that’s my line. Stop stealing it.”
“You were funny before, now you’re just aggravating me. You can forget that feast in your honor,” said Behemoth.
The next part would be the most dangerous. When Behemoth paused his wild turning, Terran pulled himself up until he could grab his opponent’s neck. He couldn’t quite get his arms to reach the front, but there was enough loose skin to hold on.
“Ha! You think you’re going to choke me? I’ll break you like a twig,” said Behemoth.
Before the giant hands reached Terran, he poured his magic into a Stone Touch spell. The Behemoth didn’t notice the change to his flesh at first for two reasons: the first was his thick skin, and secondly, the spell took some time to get going.
“My neck, it burns!”
Terran pushed everything he had into the spell, rapidly changing the flabby neck flesh into stone. The more he converted the louder Behemoth yelled and when his opponent finally got his hands on Terran’s arms, he pushed a Stone Shard spell through the flesh, exploding a section of stone. Behemoth dropped to his knees, the futile attempts to dislodge Terran lost to the awful pain.
When Behemoth reached back a second time, he did it with rage on his lips. Terran knew the fear of death drove his opponent, and no simple slap of pain would surprise his hands away, so he funneled as much Stone Touch as he could through the Behemoth’s neck, before dropping away to land in the sand, scrambling to a safe location. The changing of flesh burned at the Behemoth, who patted his neck, trying to undo the magic, but Terran had no intention of letting that happen. He inhaled a calming breath, then belted out a killing note with Sonic Disruption.
“Behemoth!”
The spell was meant to deal damage to earthen creatures or vulnerable objects. In the cave with the stone spiders, he’d used the spell to injure them with his voice. In this case, the entire circumference of the Behemoth’s neck had been converted to stone, and when the destructive vibration hit it, the whole piece snapped off. When Behemoth’s head popped, a spray of dust and blood spilling into the sands, the crowd screamed with shock, not because they were unused to such horrors, but because of the unexpected nature of the win. Terran had no disagreement with the Behemoth, but his opponent was in the way. He moved up the headless body and shoved it forward with his boot.
“I told you I was going to turn you into dust,” he said.
A horn sounded twice, announcing Terran’s win. For a moment, Terran thought the crowd would withhold their favor, but after an inbreath, the whole Arena erupted with cheers. Not one to lose his opportunity, Terran used his bardic voice to chant:
“Run the Gauntlet! Run the Gauntlet! Run the Gauntlet!”
He kept chanting, rotating in a slow circle, until the entire crowd had taken up his cheer. Within twenty seconds, the whole place was rocking, and Terran made the slow procession back to the tunnel where El was waiting, shaking his head, an impressed smirk on his lips.
You have completed the quest “Earn the right to Run the Gauntlet at the Arena.”
You have gained experience and increased reputation in Dagrath.
[You have increased the skill Battle Song]
Skill: Battle Song 19 (CHA)
Play that head-poppin’ music, elf boy.
[You have increased the skill Bardic Endurance.]
Skill: Bardic Endurance 11 (CHA)
You huffed and puffed and blew the Behemoth down.
You have been offered a quest: Run the Gauntlet and earn your freedom.
Reward: Freedom from Arena, Reputation, Experience, and a Boon of the Champion.
Nothing like a challenge to get your heart pumping.
“Impressive display,” said El as he tightened the buckles on his armguards. “I think they might have erred in placing me in the final match. I’ll have a hard time beating that.”
“Just win your match,” said Terran.
El touched his forehead with two fingers before jogging onto the sands, leaving Terran alone in the tunnel. He wasted no time, reaching out to his friends.
Luna, he said, how much gold can you raise?
Chapter Seventeen
Terran sat on his bunk with a tray of food in his lap. The roast chicken and tubers had gotten cold, but he stuffed shreds of meat into his mouth.
“It could always use more salt,” said El, looking up from his tray, “but victory in the Arena makes it taste better than it would otherwise.”
Terran licked his greasy fingers and leaned against the stone wall. “I prefer the food at the Golden Kumquat, but you’re right, victory food has its appeal, mostly being alive to eat it.”
El ripped away a hunk of pale meat from his tray, placed it in front of his face. “I hear the winners in the apartments feast each night, drink beer and wine, have parties.”
“Is that what you aspire to?” asked Terran.
His cell companion dropped the strip of meat onto the tray. “No, but it’s my only option. I fight well, but not well enough to Run the Gauntlet.” His forehead wrinkled. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen a match end like that.”
“If you had to choose, what would you do?” asked Terran.
El set his tray next to him and leaned against the wall, stroking a tusk. “Return to my people, try to free them somehow. Maybe someday I could grow a garden again.”
“They announced you as El’Kar, King of the Targens. Are you really their king?” asked Terran.
“They might as well call me Emperor of the Mud. My p
eople are enslaved by the Howling Wind. I am king of nothing,” said El, shifting his mouth to the side. “And even when I was, ours was a small kingdom of farmers and poets.”
“Sounds wonderful,” said Terran.
El pulled his knee to his chest, wrapped his arms around it. “How about your kingdom of Rock Leaf Elves?”
“It’s growing,” said Terran, “but not much longer if I can’t get out. The whole thing will collapse if I can’t escape the Arena.” He tugged on the bracelet on his wrist, looking El in the eyes. “I have to win.”
El nodded grimly. “Then let’s get started. You need a plan for each of your opponents.”
“Have you fought them all?” asked Terran.
“I’m afraid not—only Lionhall the Broken, and that was when I first came to the Arena,” said El.
Terran sighed. “Gonna be hard to strategize without knowing the strengths and weaknesses of my opponents.”
El shot him a wink as he stood up and moved to the bars, where he got the guards’ attention. After a brief conversation and the passing of a bribe, Terran heard other doors squeak open, then a few minutes later, the guard opened their cell, letting in a barghast covered in tattoos, a human woman with red demonic eyes, and a pale man with skin almost translucent.
“This is Varmak the Destroyer, The Lady of the Wastes, and Frost Knife,” said El. “They’ve each fought your opponents and have agreed to help. This is Terran the Tenacious, though I think you all know that already.”
“Thank you for helping, but may I ask why?”
The barghast, Varmak the Destroyer, let a grin rise to his lips. “If you beat the top three gladiators, that gives us a chance to take their spots. Your victory is our victory.”
Champion's Prophecy: A LitRPG Adventure Page 14