SLAP!
He slapped his forehead.
"Dammit! I forgot my sword at the room because of my haste!"
He stood before a giant wooden door, the fighter's entrance. The arena itself was a sandstone-walled circular building, like the Rome Colosseum.
"Now, how am I supposed to fight?"
He looked at his fists.
"With these? The only thing I'm getting are broken knuckles from whoever's kicking my ass."
He began pacing around.
"Who am I even fighting? Five days? Five Captains? Oh no."
He rubbed his temple.
"I am falling into doubts, even before the whole thing started."
He looked at the giant door.
"This place better have weapons for me—"
CREEE-E-EAK!
The giant door creaked open to a small hallway to another giant door. Torches lit the space, illuminating an assortment of differently sized weapons on both sides of the sandy and cracked wall—swords, long swords, broad swords, spears, javelins, etc.
"Hoowee!"
He rubbed his hands with a large, childish grin on his face.
"Which one will come to Papi, huh? Is it you? You? Or maybe you?"
He pointed at a broad sword, then a battleaxe, and finally at a double-edged sword.
"Yep, you're definitely the one."
He picked up the double-edged sword and inspected it—chipped and scratched along the blade.
"It's not in its best shape—probably used in hundreds of fights. That's the price to pay for being forgetful."
He stood before the second door, the entrance to the fighting ground.
Okay, I guess I stand by this huge door and wait for its opening.
As if on cue, a game show host's voice boomed from behind the door.
"People! Welcome to the ARENAAA!"
He heard the crowd erupting in cheers.
"That's right, a student will duel against the captains of Solara Prime!"
Solara Prime? Is that where I am at?
"To the fallen goes the defeat. The prize? Anything the winner desires!"
Oh, for fuck sakes! Not this again!
"On the student's corner, the savior—not once, but twice. We have, OSWALD JAAAACK!"
Did he just— Oh no! The walk around town is gonna be a pain in the ass.
The huge door creaked opened.
Holy Gladiator, and 300 arena! THIS IS SICK!
He stepped outside, grinning under the sun. A circular American football stadium-sized arena, high walls around him cracked with spiderweb of cracks, indents and holes scattered in the walls. Above the high walls was the source of the cheering, the audience.
Through the sea of spectators of all races, he spotted his three friends in the crowd, above the door he entered from.
"HEYYYY!"
His arm flailed as he waved his friends who waved back—Korrin and Zharrak shouting something but drowned out from the cheers.
"In the other corner. They are no spring chicken! They have fought in two wars! Started from the bottom to the top! Like their forefathers, became an instructor! We have, Garrick IRONVEEEIL!"
The crowd exploded, and the door to the captain's corner swung open.
WAIT! I am fighting HIM? Oh boy. Fought in two wars? Like his forefathers? Bro, he's a whole rooster.
Instructor Garrick walked toward the middle of the arena.
Yo—his blue cape fluttering in the wind, that slow, deliberate walk. He is him!
Oswald joined Garrick in the middle of the arena, stopping a few steps away from each other.
"Heh. I must admit, I was rather taken aback to discover that only a single student would stand against us. More astonishing still, that student would be you."
He gestured with his free hand—the other remained on his hilt, never leaving it.
"Now then, tell me, what is your purpose? What compels you forward?"
Wow uh… Already going philosophical. Umm…
"Honestly, I… don't have a path yet. Because the path I uh, used to walk across was taken from me, making me trudge a new path."
His head lowered, looking at his palms—with the double-edged anchored in his thumb.
"I hope there will be an apex in this new path, so… So, I know where I am heading."
After a pause, Garrick silently nodded.
SHING!
The instructor released his weapon from his sheath, British Rapier, with a wolf insignia separating the hilt and the blade.
OH COME ON! MY SWORD SUCKS!
He readied his own weapon, both hands meeting the hilt.
DING!
The bell rung, and they began.
CLANK!
Sparks flew as both blades clashed together, a trail of dust behind Garrick.
Holy my reaction time!
"This is hardly a time to be gobsmacked!"
Garrick pushed his sword, shoving him backwards in a staggering retreat. He found his footing just barely before Garrick's sword met his vision.
CLANK!
Oswald's blade at an angle, drove Garrick's sword away with sparks flying—a parry.
OHHHHH! NOW TAKE THIS!
He counter-attacked but the instructor side-stepped his sword.
Damn! Happiness short-lived.
He tirelessly fought—parrying, dodging, and his attack dashed away. Many repetitions later, Oswald dashed back from another attack—leaving a trail of dust in front of him.
His breath came in rasps, his face and neck glistened under the sun. He moved his trembling hand to look at it. His palm was filled with splotches of red within his skin, the skin below the fingers purple.
He turned to instructor Garrick, who sweated without gasping for air.
"Hey, Teach… I think… I'm runnin' out… of juice… Let's make it… the last strik—"
Coughing interrupted him, until a phlegm surfaced, which he threw out.
"If you wish."
The sword's tip faced Oswald as Garrick dashed toward him.
Good.
Oswald ran toward the instructor, his footsteps unmeasured.
Nearing the instructor, intense pain shot through his head.
No… n…o…
His vision blurred, eyelids slowly closing.
WHOOSH!
Garrick's blade an inch away, Oswald fell sideways, Garrick's sword a hair's breadth from his nose. His appalled face followed Oswald as he hit the ground, his sword falling beside him.
Garrick skidded to a stop, cloud of dust flying behind. He turned around and ran through the plume, splitting it. He knelt down, the heat of the sand radiating through his armor as he straightened Oswald.
Turning away, he winced.
"The aim of the competition was never victory, but survival. You fought with such resolve, I forgot you were but a student."
Garrick sighed, shaking his head.
A shadow cast over Oswald—long and slender, their crinoline fluttered in the wind.
"I see... See to it that he is taken care of…"
WHOOSH!
After his request, Oswald disappeared from his arms.
* * *
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