GLADIATOR | ELYSIUM RISING 1 ✔️

⍢ | 9

Iggy awoke to an unpleasant alarm coupled with a robotic voice alerting them that it was time for breakfast. He hoped the food in the arena was better than The Chyron, but he wasn't holding his breath.

After rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he spotted the plastic-wrapped pack placed at the foot of his bed. He examined the contents through the transparent material before tearing it open. They'd given him—along with everyone else—a new uniform to wear. Instead of the navy blue prison jumpsuits from before, he'd been given one pair of pants, a pair of athletic shorts, two shirts­ (one gold and one black), and shoes that fit him perfectly. They weren't exactly his style, but they beat the baggy jumpsuit he'd been wearing.

He found the bathroom built into the room he shared with the other tributes. Rows of claustrophobia-inducing shower stalls made up one wall while urinals and stalls made up the other. His nose scrunched as the abrasive smell of chemical cleaner hit his nostrils. With his clothes in hand, he moved into a shower stall and washed yesterday away.

He'd almost forgotten what hot water felt like against his grime-covered skin.

The Chyron wasn't exactly the benchmark for cleanliness, and the showers there only sputtered out freezing cold water that'd make the oceans of Icygik jealous. While his current living quarters weren't much of a step up, he appreciated the additional perks.

After his shower, he met up with Tenn at the front of the room. The man opted to wear the pants and black, long-sleeved shirt given to him while Iggy went for the shorts and gold shirt. Around them, the other tributes began to form a line near the doors as instructed by the voice blaring through the speaker overhead.

"How'd you sleep?" Iggy asked as he and his Andradan companion shuffled toward the line.

He rubbed his lower back. "Those cots are pretty terrible."

"Better than the ship, though."

"That's not saying much."

An Elysian guard arrived at the door and instructed them to head out. Once outside, they joined up with the other tributes before walking down the hall and into another, much larger room.

Half of it was dedicated to some sort of training area—fitted with weight stations, locked racks full of weapons, and mats designed for sparring. The other half was covered in screens; they all displayed the faces of the tributes present, along with the results of their evaluations. As everyone's names appeared on the screens, a color highlighted their names.

Iggy's blood ran cold once his own showed up.

A red glow surrounded his name. Tenn's was a dull yellow.

The pair glanced at each other simultaneously.

Across the room, Iggy spotted Vonn and his crew. The man slid his index finger across his throat—the message every bit as subtle and clever as he was. Shuddering, Iggy turned just in time to see the quartet of Elysian guards marched into the room. They split apart in perfect sync before moving into their own corner of the room, revealing the purple-haired man from yesterday who'd been hiding among them. Moxi Daystar, the arena's host, wore a massive grin that matched the huge suit draping off his small body. A party of Slavs—all dressed in pressed, white uniforms bearing the symbol of the empire on their backs—entered the room shortly after.

"Good morning, glorious contestants!" he chirped. Iggy rolled his eyes. "Today, we'll be explaining how this year's games are to work. On the screens behind me, you'll see the results of your evaluations and what round you'll be making your debuts." He gestured at the bright displays at his back. "Green is for you potential superstars out there. You're third-rounders. Yellow is for the second round." His tone darkened. "And red is for first-rounders."