The tale of a priestess turned gladiator after a raid on the village, resulting in her and her compatriots being kidnapped with any other surviving townsfolk to the duke's colosseum.
There they are forced to fight or die trying, some not even gettin...
I hold my head, my tangled hair greasing my palm as I back up, my hands shaking as I crumble down into a ball. I shake my head, "nonononono! WHY?!" I exclaim, picking myself back up, tears staining my cheeks. "WHY THIS MEANINGLESS DEATH?! THIS WON'T HELP YOU?! THIS WILL MAKE EVERYTHING WORSE!" I break down, yelling at him with depression, turning back to face the stoic Gyle as he drags his spiked club with him.
"Gyle, you've been our champion for several years, so I decided to spice things up and have you fight one of your fellows, and look who arrived!" The Duke ignores me, speaking loudly, but calmly, "You continue to not wield anything enchanted or god gifted, as such I can't tell if you're still of use... if you can prove it to me today, then we will see. Entertain us."
The crowd surges to life as I and gyle interchange gazes. He grabs me, lifting me up to my feet. As he lets me go I struggle not to crumble.
"Pick up your sword fresh-blood," Gyle advised, with a cold-stone expression.
"What are you suppressing?" I inquire, as I retrieve Ferbrang, wiping away my tears.
He brushes off my inquiry, "go over there." I do so, the crowd's cheers dying down as we spread distance and prepare.
I enter an offensive combat stance, while Gyle enters an unidentifiable one, the club in hands.
"Fight!" The Duke shouts, making Gyle charge. I try to dissect what to do but he reaches me too fast, swinging his club to my right. I leap backwards, the wind from the force blowing through my whole body. I stumble from the gust, his swing quickly recovering, he follows up, by using the force and momentum to swing his leg into my own, his strength overpowering me and sending me slamming down on my side, I grunt at the sudden landing. He recovers from the force quickly, bringing his club up. I adjust myself as he does, my body facing his.
"You don't deserve this." He mentions as I start rolling, his club crashing into the sand as I successfully roll out away. I stab into it with Ferbrang, to no effect but to pick myself up. "You've been keeping morale high. But that doesn't matter now... for my tribe, I have to do this. I'm one more year from getting out of this place, he swings it along the sand, sending it flying into the air as I do the same, my legs being torn open by the spikes implanted in the club.
I land back down on the sand, panting heavily as my blood starts to leak from my legs, they tingle as I use my blade as leverage to stand as he finishes his swing.
I can't die here...
I charge at him, my blade aimed straight for him. As I reach his spot I find he dodged my stab, him releasing his club with one hand, bringing his elbow into my wounded breast, I go breathless from the strike as he uses his arm to push me away, gripping his club again he brings his leg up, kicking me back, his club comes swinging. I brace knowing I can't dodge it, the impact sends me flying as wounds open along my side, arm and legs. I crash into the sand, my body skidding to a halt as I groan, my right hurting in its entirety, I feel broken inside. I hear cracking as I stand, limping, I grab my Ferbrang which landed just a ways away. Gyle sighs as he sees me get back up, groaning as he faces me, his hands gripping it.
"I see... regeneration. Anyone would have died from that, guessing it's taking a while." Gyle observes. "Why doe this have to be so difficult..." he shakes his head, getting rid of the hesitation as he charges forward again. I leap backwards, evading the strike, along with the gust of wind. He hastily swings it again, which I barely dodge, my blade planting on it, sending wood sparking into the air as I leave a streak from the contact. I continue jumping backwards. He stopped after it, simply looking at me, his calm expression diminished by the water in his eyes.
"For my holy lord, I refuse to perish, I will struggle to free these people... I'm sorry that it has come to this..!" I charge forward, blade behind me as I brace myself. He grunts, hefting his club and swinging it toward my side, I slide down on my legs, my forelegs sliding across the rough sand, scratching up my skin as I lay my back flat on the ground, my legs audibly snapping from the act. His club swings right overhead, the spikes slicing me open with just the tips, as the swing passes, my knees touch his feet. I ignore the pain as I force myself up with a scream from the pain.
My blade enters just above his waist and under his belly button. It feels like the time stopped as I leaned to my left, the blade carving through his waist. With a meaty squelch, it carves its way out, opening him up as his intestines start to spill. He falls to the ground with a slam, the sand sprinkling the area as it clouds up. I cough from it entering my lungs.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
As it dissipates I see the tribesman laying down with blood pooling and pouring out of him, with his small intestine splattered along the ground. He stares into nothing, his cool expression broken, in its place a smile and singular tear.
"I guess it's my time... I finally get to see my people..." Gyle mumbles, his arm weakly moving forward. "Thank you... wish Matilda good... luck... that.. goof..." He just continues staring, alive and waiting. I find myself unable to stand as he whispers out a final: "Thank you."
Matilda carries me to Rhine, laying me on a stone bed in a different room. I stare at the ceiling as I'm laid down, fatigue crashing into me. I can't keep my eyes open. I close my eyes and sleep.
