Scars

Chapter 2- The star warrior

"The land of Kemet is blessed to have such beasts. I'm glad to see such a young man here. Enjoy the fight, but don't peel your own skin off, boy!" The old man looked at him and said, laughing hysterically. He felt a little embarrassed but focused on the fight.

Four shacks served no less than two hundred men, all ready to see some gruesome action. All the noise came to a halt as the first man grabbed the mace tossed towards him.

"Filthy son of a pig-whore!" A table was kicked as a man got dragged out by the bystanders. Ignoring it, he moved further ahead to get a good look of the fight.

His jaw dropped when he saw the size of that thing. It was visibly heavy, one could tell as it swung his arm as he grabbed it. It had a round head with spikes on it. The second man took his sword and put on his armour.

The noise once again rose as the whistle made both the men snap, they pounced in each other's direction like hungry carnivores, willing to eat each other alive, right there. The man with the star on his chest, who had the mace swung it so hard it knocked his opponent on the shield and yet he fell back. He did not miss and threw another fatal swing, which his opponent swiftly dodged.

The sword was no less than the mace in this fight and the sound it made as it hit the mace made the 200 men so adrenalised. "Ahmos you beauty!" A man yelled.

Ahmos, was a swordsmith, who alleged had very strong connections in the state of Kemet.
His swords had been a part of over a hundred different battles. Hundreds of men worked for him while he still took care of every single sword that held his seal. A snake engraved on the hilt of a sword was a sign that a sword was made by Ahmos. These hilts used to be either gold-plated or simply black. The designs also varied depending on whether a military or intelligence official was going to use it or just a regular mercenary or soldier. The beautifully crafted sword shone and blinded the crowd as it reflected the mid-day sun.

The sword fighter was up in a flash and charged back with full swing, but the star fighter dodged and hit back with a massive blow, making him lose grip as he dropped his sword. He had anticipated his opponent's dominant hand was his right hand and he improvised. As he thought he would simply crush his skull with the mace in a flash, he couldn't comprehend what just happened.

The sword fighter dropped to the ground and grabbed and swung his sword as the crowd went silent, cutting through both his calves. The crowd went berserk as the star warrior yelled in pain. The sword fighter was at the other end of the ground in no time.
This was the time he played his opponent. He stood there and yelped, and that made the sword fighter slowly move back towards him, and as he got close, he ran 270 degrees in a circle to the left, climbing a half-cut tree stump and out of his sword's reach, he pounced and went all in. The sword fighter saw his end flash in front of his eyes and swung his sword.

The mace crushed his helmet, and its spikes were crushed into his skull. The sword fighter's sword lied on his left. He was dead in a moment.

The star warrior was hit with the blow of the sword, and it cut him on the belly, running left to right. As blood gushed out, no one in the shacks dared to step in. They were hoping for the dead sword fighter to wake back up, pull the mace spikes out of his own skull, and rip the star warrior's visibly cut guts out. But he was dead.
He faintly laughed as he looked at his mace, proud, even though he would be dead in minutes. He was happy having killed his opponent, even if his own destiny would be just the same.

"Anubis takes them home." Someone said and there was complete, eerie silence as his life flashed in front of his eyes.

In the shack, was standing the youngest man in the audience, almost crying and his hands trembling. As the star warrior's big, muscular frame thuds to the ground, he screamed, "someone save him! In the name of Sekhmet! In the name of Ra!"

"Shut up, you manchild! That's his destiny, and look at the smile he's wearing, unlike you who would probably piss his pants tonight! Do not mess with the rules of the fight!"

"Who let this kid in here? Throw him out!"
Before anyone could set to it, he rushed to the side and threw up, coughing uncontrollably. No man touched him but they all laughed as they saw him throw up. It was funny to them.

Scavengers lurked around as the two has-beens of the city lied dead on the ground. A day that gave immense entertainment to the viewers and an unforgettable visual to the young man, who lied by the shack as the sun went down. The flies, eagles and the heinous smell of raw, rotting human flesh woke him up. He had been unconscious for over four hours.

He did not even touch the food that night. He rarely showered post sunset but right now he just had to. Soon as he lied down, unlike the previous night, he fell asleep in no time.

It was the most peaceful night he could recall. To this day, he would often dream of this night, for what followed afterwards took only one thing away from him: his sleep.