ARISTOS ACHAION // Awesamdude X Reader

6

The training lasted for a few hours, and mostly consisted of you getting used to the feeling of the sword in your hand. Sam walked the group through a few simple drills, showing those of the crowd who didn't already know, how to pivot and use their center of gravity to keep themselves upright. You didn't bother too much with the exercises - you had already known most of it anyway, and practicing keeping your center of gravity wasn't going to give you any more of a chance in the arena.

Thankfully, Sam didn't look at you once during the whole session. With how he had met your gaze yesterday, you weren't quite sure what to think - if you should be worried or not. It seemed whatever had caught his interest yesterday though was gone, and you were left to your own devices until the session was over.

When the time came, you set the sword you had grabbed back down, and followed the rest of the group back into the dining hall at the direction of the guards.

Tonight they were serving beef and potato stew. It looked disgusting, but you drank it all anyway, and cringed at the aftertaste it left in your mouth. The water you washed it down with was lukewarm.

Leaning your arms on the wooden table, you looked up, glancing around the room.

It was louder than usual today, and every now and again the ceiling would shake - unsurprising though, when there was a fight going on in the colosseum above you. The roar of the crowd as one of the caesar's champions tore through common criminals like they were nothing permeated the room.

The rest of your group was scattered around, taking their own meals in small clusters around each table. It seemed calmer than it had this morning or yesterday - it seemed people had either accepted their fates, or felt better about their chances now that they knew they were getting some training. You found yourself listening in on the gentle chatter of the room.

It would be nice, to have someone to talk to. You hadn't spoken to anyone since you had talked back to the guard on your way to the holding cell.

If you didn't say anything else before you got into the ring, those would be your last words.

Not bad, as far as final statements went. Certainly captured how you felt about the state of the world. You'd hoped that your last words might have been something more kind - to a lover, perhaps, or to your legacy. Now... you wouldn't have that.

Suddenly drained, you turned away from the other people in the room, instead focusing your gaze out the window.

Sandaled feet took up most of the view as someone hurried towards the window, trying to use the opening as a way to climb (or at least, that's what you thought they were trying to do - you couldn't tell too much by just watching their feet) out of the arena, only for another set of feet to catch up to them. Hands wrapped around their ankles, tugging them back to the ground.

The man hit the sand, causing a shower of particles to sprinkle down into the dining hall through the bars. For a moment, you met his eyes - his pupils blown wide with fear as he scrabbled for hold in the dirt.

It didn't matter though, because he captor was dragging him away from the window, and back into the center of the arena.

The man wailed, reaching down to claw at the hands holding his ankles. His captor didn't budge though, switching their grip so that they could pin both of his legs in one hand, using the other to swiftly break his wrists, stopping him from interfering. The man screamed as his bones were snapped, curling in on himself the most he could.

You wanted to look away. You couldn't tear your gaze away from the window.

As the man and his captor got farther away from the bars, you could see more of just who had wrenched him down by his ankles. The vice like grip on the man's ankles led to smoothly muscled arms. Armor only made their shoulders seem bigger, and caught the sunlight shining down on them, reflecting it to form a golden glow around the champion. Brown curls flowed out from under their helmet, sprawling across their shoulders as they turned, showing their captive off to the crowd.

What was the most terrifying though, was the glow that seemed to come from their eyes. It was only when they turned away from you that you could see exactly what they were - mirrors, reflecting the natural light.

You knew exactly who that was. Statues around the city in their honor made sure that everyone knew their name - and feared it.

Ceres. The champion of champions. The caesar's favorite, lovingly named the ruler of the shadows.

Out in the sand, Ceres picked their captive up properly now, holding him above their head. The crowd cheered as Ceres turned, showing off their prey like a proud huntress.

You knew what came next. You felt like you were going to hurl.

In the blink of an eye, Ceres disappeared from view. They called them the ruler of the shadows for a reason - a gift from the gods, like most of the caesar's favorites possessed, let them fade from view at will for moments in time. It was the crowning part of their act.

You closed your eyes.

The man's shriek rang out across the colosseum and into the dining hall as he was torn in two. You had seen if before, once, when you had still been free. You hadn't known why Ceres was one of the caesar's favorites then, but you wouldn't make the same mistake of watching their finishing show again.

The crowd broke out into raucous cheering as you turned away from the window, feeling queasy. Thank the gods you wouldn't make it that far - you would rather kill yourself than fight Ceres.