GLADIATOR | ELYSIUM RISING 1 ✔️

⍢ | 13

At breakfast, Iggy told Tenn about Jaxon. He felt the need to tell someone, but the other tributes weren't exactly trustworthy. He'd only said a handful of words to the others; most of his time was spent annoying the old man. Besides, Tenn happened to be the only person he trusted. Being a rebel himself, he'd likely get a kick out of hearing a spy was snooping about.

The Andradan didn't find it amusing. Not even a little bit.

"And you're going to meet him again?" he questioned.

"Er, yeah...?"

"You're even dumber than I thought." Tenn shook his head in disapproval. "You want to make it out this arena alive, yes?" Iggy nodded. "What do you think'll happen if the guards catch you with this 'Jaxon Gunn'?"

The idea of getting caught dawned on him. He hadn't really taken the time to consider it before then. Like always, Tenn had a valid point. His chances of survival went up drastically if he simply kept his head down and stayed out of trouble. And that's exactly what Jaxon Gunn was—trouble.

But that didn't get rid of the rush he felt when they were hiding in that storage closet together. It was risky and exhilarating. Jaxon even matched his wit; not many people could. The adrenaline he felt when they nearly got caught resembled the way he felt whipping around the racetrack in the arena. The sensation was intoxicating to an extent; he craved more. Never had he fallen into the category of a thrill seeker, but something shifted in him when he stepped off The Chryon after it landed on Elysium.

Still, part of him dreaded the next challenge. But another, much smaller part, wanted to hear the crowd chanting his name. He yearned to see his face on the jumbotron in the center of the arena. He'd tasted victory once already. And it tasted sweeter than the fruits from Samghāta*. Suddenly, he scowled and shook his head.

He wasn't here to be their revered champion like the other tributes who won previous games. Like he told Jaxon last night, he wasn't in it for the glory. His goal remained the same: win the games and return home to his mother. That's all he ever wanted. Now wasn't the time to shift gears.

Finally, he nodded at Tenn. "You're right. I don't know what I was thinking."

"I don't either," Tenn quipped. "You don't need to be getting yourself wrapped up in all of that. The rebellion isn't meant for people like you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're not built for it."

"How would you know that? You barely know me, old man."

"I know you, boy. And I know real rebels. You're not them."

But what if I was? He kept that to himself, still processing the blatant dismissal of his character by the Andradan. Now, Iggy wasn't naïve. He knew he wasn't the bravest or the strongest or the smartest person out there, but Tenn's comments punched a massive hole in his ego.

His father got himself tied up in the rebellion. Signs even pointed to him still being alive. From what he remembered about the man, he didn't give off the profile of a traitor to the empire either. His father was a kind, patient person; he didn't have a violent bone in his body. Iggy never even heard him raise his voice.

Actually, that wasn't true.

There was one time, but Iggy did his best to block that memory from his psyche. Every now and then, it permeated its way through the firewall he built, plaguing his thoughts until he forced it back down.

If his father could become a rebel, who said he couldn't? Not that he wanted to. Becoming a fugitive wasn't on his bucket list. But neither was getting shipped to Elysium to fight in the Elysian Games. The universe had plans for him, whether he liked them or not.