ARISTOS ACHAION // Awesamdude X Reader

14

Though you were supposed to head directly back to your cell from the dining hall, none of the guards stopped you when you took a left turn out of the doors instead of a right. Perhaps they were more interested in watching Prosperine finish off the line than the lone survivor of a cell block, or maybe it was a testament to just how infrequently people made it through the first round. No one seemed quite sure what to do with you other than Sam.

It was kind of nice, having your run of the winding maze of the prison.

It was easy to find your way back to that training room you had stumbled upon that day - it was just a short walk from the dining hall. The doors were unlocked when you pushed on the wood, and swung open easily, letting you slip inside.

The room was almost the same as it had been when you had found it the first time - only now, the wall where Diana had kept her knives was bare, stripped away after her death to be kept in her tomb with her. Sam's trident was also missing, though that was only because he was using it at the moment, holding it as he forced prisoners into the ring.

You didn't pay the empty spots too much mind though, more interested in what the other walls in the room had to offer. You were looking for something that could possibly stand a chance against Prosperine's fire - and if that magical sort of tool was going to be anywhere, it would be here.

Most of the weapons displayed on the wall were specialized and beyond you (why would anyone need a set of rings that connected into a single spike when a knife was more versatile and probably sharper?), but what you did see and recognize was in top condition. The glint of tempered bronze sharp enough to reflect light lined the walls, drawing your attention from weapon to weapon.

For how high-grade it all was, you still saw nothing that would help you defeat Prosperine. You supposed there wasn't much a simple tool could do against an ability like that though.

A bow would allow you to stay out of range of the flames, but the arrows would just be incinerated in the air. A shorter range weapon like sword or a knife would hold up better in the heat, but you would prefer not to get burned to a crisp trying to beat him. You'd tossed around the idea of something with ice, or water, but the sheer amount of heat Prosperine exuded would render it useless.

You needed some new ideas.

Your stream of thought broke when you heard the door behind you open. Involuntarily, your heart jumped into your throat, mind still swirling with the idea of Prosperine and thinking that it was him who had entered the room. Your head turned, panic immediately fading when instead of orange eyes, you saw green.

Sam didn't seem surprised to find you here, simply nodding to you as he brushed by to place his trident back into it's stand. "You didn't watch the fight?" He asked, sliding off his wrist bracers as well.

"No, I did." You said, pausing for a moment. "Prosperine is very... impressive."

Sam nodded, unfastening the straps around his breastplate now. "He is. Before he became one of the caesar's champions and was blessed by Floga, he worked in a forge. It was no surprise when he managed to best three of the caesar's best."

You laughed, mirthlessly. "Well. If he was able to best three champions even without his abilities, I don't know why I'm even bothering to try my hand. It seems I'll be naught but a pile of ash-"

"That being said," Sam said, casting you a glance as he shed the rest of his armor and set it into the hold next to his trident. Even without the polished plates of bronze, he was still an intimidating figure, making you drop your sentence halfway. "Prosperine has always been one with a flair for the dramatic."

"Oh." You said.

Sam hummed, adjusting his armor so that it hung properly on the rack. "Should you get under his skin, it would be easy to distract him from using his flame. He takes insults very personally, so if you were to say something about... oh, lets suppose... relying on his flame too much, you might find yourself with a better chance."

You blinked up at Sam, his words processing in your head. "I see."

"I would also recommend choosing a weapon that won't catch on fire easily, and that you can have some range and agency with." He said, eyes sliding over to where a bronze spear was hanging on the wall. You hadn't really noticed it before, as it was easy to miss in all the other flashier weapons, but it was forged out of one continuous piece of metal, the end tapered into something deadly.

"Right." You said, reaching out to pull the spear from it's hooks on the wall. "I've never fought with something like this."

Sam hummed. "I'm not supposed to aid any of the prisoners - besting any of the caesar's champions should be done of your own skill and prowess."

Your stomach sank. The tips were helpful, but without any guidance on how to use them, you were going to flounder, you were sure of it.

"However." Sam continued, pulling another spear from the wall, this one with a wooden handle. "Given that it's an unfair fight, and as the warden of the prison I have agency to level the playing field, extra training could be in order."

The sinking feeling righted itself quickly as you bit back a grin. "Thank you sir." You said, glancing up at Sam. For a moment, you just looked at him as he twirled the spear in his hand. "Can I ask why?"

Sam's eyes shifted from the weapon in his hand to you. "I would rather not see someone with so much promise burned to a crisp." He said simply.