GLADIATOR | ELYSIUM RISING 1 ✔️

⍢ | 30

For the first—and only—time since arriving on Elysium Prime, Iggy couldn't wait to step into the arena.

The final game would begin in the next five minutes. The subdued chants of the crowd outside sounded lightyears away. He imagined the looks he'd get when he took that stage for the final time. He stared into the light emanating from the buzzing forcefield ahead, counting the down the seconds until it vanished.

This time, he stood alone. He, along with the other eight remaining tributes, was isolated from each other. The pit of the arena had been sectioned off into an octagon of sorts. Old maintenance tunnels had been converted into waiting rooms for the tributes as they prepared to take on the arena's last challenge. Each of them stood in their own narrow corridor, accompanied only by the lights built into the glass floor beneath their feet.

Only one of them would be crowned victor at the end of it all. Iggy had to make sure it was him.

Light glinted off the sword in his hand. His fingers tightened around the black wrapping around the hilt; his knuckles bulged against his skin from the force of his grip.

When Iggy first received the blade, he marveled at it for what felt like half an hour. Writing in Old Elysian—the native tongue of the Elysians—had been inscribed into the pitch-black metal. The message was lost on him. He'd been informed that the blade was crafted out of the remnants of a meteor that crashed on Olympium, another Elysian-owned paradise world. The material was darker than space itself. Golden accents ran along the hilt and pommel. Sleek yet grand. Primitive yet modern. Not to mention expensive. It likely cost more credits than he'd ever own.

Another gift from House au Castus—along with the black and gold armor he'd been given. 

Had he not needed them to survive this final challenge, he wouldn't have accepted them. But he was angry, not dumb. He gratefully took the gear with a large smile when they were handed to him by a blank-eyed android earlier that day.

Exhaling, he curled his fingers around the silicon straps of the chest plate protecting him. Lightweight pieces of metal painted bronze and black up and down his midsection, mapping out what he wished his pectorals and abs looked like. A small device had been attached to the nape of his neck. When pressed, his helmet would spawn in.

Goosebumps cascaded down his arms. A ball of anxiety and fear settled at the base of his throat. Swallowing hard, he did his best to shake the nervousness out of his trembling limbs.

This was it. His last test. The final obstacle between himself and freedom.

His mother and the green seas of Yensari were the only things on his mind. Nothing would prevent him from returning to them. After everything was said and done, he'd let Jaxon, Noia, and the Alliance pick up the pieces. His job would be done. They would thank him after it was. But he didn't require their applause.

All he needed was his family and home back.

He released his hold on the straps of his chest plate, letting his arms hang at his side. The forcefield ahead of him disengaged. Outside, the crowd's cheers shook the entire arena. He closed his eyes and soaked it all in.

One last time.

#

Once Moxi Daystar finished his closing ceremony for the Elysian Gladiator Games, the tributes were instructed to exit their tunnels. Iggy cautiously emerged into the fray with the others. Everyone exchanged glances with one another as they waited for the host to explain what the final challenge was.

But they knew what it would be.

Iggy saw it in their eyes. He knew it deep down in his heart.

The arena itself even told them. There were no more racetracks or mazes. There was just concrete.