With the sed tour ready to begin, the horn booms across the colosseum as the first team is ushered in. A massive sandgss is flipped over o the announcer, signifying the start of the time-limit.

  With time limited, the first team takes the safest option. They rush towards the wolves which growl threateningly at their approach. The wolves, numbering ten, do not approach even as the [Gdiators] are in range. Instead, they wait for the five to get closer. Just as the first of the [Gdiators] is in range of grabbing a piece of equipment, the wolves rush to surround them. The [Gdiators] take a defeah their backs to each ainst ten wolves.

  For the five mihe fight is bloody with half the wolves getting killed and two of the [Gdiators]. After the sed [Gdiators] death, the remaining three quickly retreat out of we. Therumpet rings and the first round of the day is plete.

  Ohe remaining [Gdiators] leave the arena for treatment, a team of armored veteran [gdiators] rush into the arena. The wolves, seeing them, quickly scurry away, allowing the men to remove the both human and wolf corpses.

  “Are the wolves repced?” Quasi asks as the veterans leave.

  “No,” Gond answers. “Those who go first have the greatest risk but also the first choice of equipment. Ten wolves for five [Gdiators] should have been dangerous, but doable with proper skill and pnning.”

  “Yea, huddling together isn’t good when you’re practically naked. It makes it difficult to dodge.”

  Gond nods. “A could reliably take out all ten myself.”

  “Same.” Quasi answers, getting a raised eyebrow from the retired [Gdiator] but choosing not to ent.

  The round begins, and the [Gdiators] finish off the remaining wolves with only a single leg injury on one of the [Gdiators]. From there, they quickly rush to the pieces of equipment. It is here that Quasi notices that some of the rger equipment is tied or ed down. The [Gdiators] use their ons to free said equipment, pig it up, and then quickly moving to the .

  Then I hear the trumpet and all five stop what they are doing. Everything in their arms or on their body is theirs. They leave the arena with their haul of mostly pieces of leather armor.

  Once gohe corpses are removed by the veterans.

  “The eam will rush to see what’s left. If not enough, they’ll theo fight the samanders.”

  Quasi focuses on the five alligator-sized lizards. They remind him er Komodons with thicker scales.

  “They don’t seem that much more dangerous than wolves.”

  “They’re easier than wolves if you’ve got a good on. If not, getting through those scales will be difficult and take a bit of time. They are also quite deadly if they bite. The pressure they exert from their mouths is enough to crush bone and beal.”

  Just as Gond predicted, the eam rushes where the wolves were at, find nothing of signifit i, and then they move to the samanders. Uhe previous team, this one is more professional and goes in with a pn of a. Uhe wolves, Samanders don’t use tactics. Ohe [Gdiators] are in rahey group rushes towards them. The [Gdiators] separate as do many of the samanders. Those chased by more than one are tasked with distra. Those who have only a single samander or none work together to strike them down using superior numbers and the two great-axes oeam. In mihe samanders are taken care of and the team rushes to the equipment. Unfortunately, it’s clear the fight against the samaook too long, for the trumpet sounds just as they reach the equipment.

  “The eam is very lucky.” Gond says. “They won’t o fight anything.”

  Ohe corpses are ed up, the eam is ushered into the arena. A team Quasi knows so well.

  The crowd, seeing Boriss, starts cheering loudly. The big man, t over the rest of his team, waves at the crowds with his usual Russian grin.

  “Seems your crewman is quite lucky,” Gond ents.

  Quasi chuckles. “No, no he is not.”

  Gond g the cat and frowns. “Why?”

  “Cause Boriss is the only one smiling.”

  ______________________________________________________________

  The [Announcer] looks down from his elevated position at the fan favorite, Boriss. The man is rge, broad shouldered, and has the posture of a veteran [Gdiator]. His impressive dispy yesterday has ordered the powers at be to make sure the man survives long enough to enter into the finals. Hehe man is given three experienced [Gdiators] and has had his position moved to the fourth team to ehe arena. As the fourth team, the likelihood of getting killed isn’t too high and the equipment that be obtained is adequate to get far iour. Though, the [Announcer] wasn’t expeg the previous team to finish off all the samanders.

  “Looks like you’ve got it very easy.” The [Announcer] says without activating the runes on the podium to extend his voice.

  With a flick of his fingers, the sandgss is flipped over and the trumpet is blown, signaling the beginning of the match.

  It is here where the crowd's cheers quickly die down as the group of five don’t rush left, where the samanders were defeated. Instead, they rush right.

  From left tht, the order of beasts goes from wolves, samanders, lions, griffins, chimeras, basilisk, and finally the royal wyvern Hellion. The group rushes towards Hellion, arguably one of if not the most dangerous beast on the field. The only thing that might be more dangerous is the basilisk, but only because Hellion is old and injured.

  “He’s ihe [Announcer] mumbles, his voice resonating to the audieh the same thought as most of them.

  The five run towards Hellion, and the wyvern notices this. He stands up and growls towards the approag [gdiators]. As they enter Hellion's ranger, four of the [Gdiators] split to the sides while Boriss rushes to what most believe is his death.

  Though wyverns aren't as intelligent as a pegasus, or even a griffin, the royal variants are. Unfortunately, the royal variants are also far mgressive. With an ear splitting roar, Hellion charges Boriss. The man grins as Hellion takes the bait. Then just as Hellion reaches the man, Boriss jumps. Not your expected two-meter jump. No, the sand gives way as Boriss leaps five meters into the air, avoiding hellions lunge and nds on the wyverns spiked back. Then he rushes to the ned swings his on, crag scales and nothing else. Helliohis and roars. He rolls to get Boriss off, but the man safely jumps off at the moment the roll starts.

  In the meahe rest of the team ighe fight. Instead, they rush to the keeping Hellioricted to his location. They fold some of the s up over each other and then iheir on into the links.

  “Boriss, it's ready!” Gino screams.

  Hearing the call, Boriss throws his greatsword at Hellion and smacks the wyvern in the face. Thearts running away. Hellion, seeing what just happened, roars and rampages after Boris, violently kig up sand.

  As Hellion chases, the keeping the wyvern ed begins thten and tighten. Then, as the extends to its maximum, the force of Hellion's rampaging form tightens the , tightens the ied ons, and then the force cracks and shatters, breaking the bounds that keep Hellion’s movemericted.

  Gasps desd from the audie the sight of a uhered, very pissed off wyvern the size of a carriage.

  Now, for most, this would be sidered death. But Boriss isn’t an idiot. Fighting a royal wyvern at his level? Impossible. But he doesn’t have to fight it. Boriss rushes to the basilisk- a massive legged serpentine rger than Hellion. The Basilisk see Hellion approad then rushes to engage. Boriss, once again, jumps in the air, over the basilisk, and then rolls the nding before tinuing to run.

  At this point, Hellion’s target shifts from the puny human to the deadly basilisk. The tha predators begin a deadly dance of cws ah, ripping scale and flesh with gory ease.

  With the two beasts distracted, Boriss makes his team, pig up his greatsword at the same time. While the beasts fight, the group of five rush to pick up the quality armors, many of which are made of metal instead of leather. Some even have runes ohough what the runes do is yet unknown.

  Eventually, the fight between Hellion and the basilisk ends not with a winner, but a double loss. The basilisk's mouth lies grasped around Hellion's crushed chest, oozing blood and poison. As for the basilisk, it lies dead, its spine severed by the aged wyverns' powerful jaws.

  The crowd is pletely silent, unwilling to make a sound at what incredible violehey’d just seen. The silence is only broken by the running out of time and the resounding echo of the trumpet.

  Even the [Announcer] has been distracted and would have tio do so if not for the call.

  “There you have it! The fourth match of today and the defeat of not only one, but two of Gdius' most dangerous beasts! Lets give this team the appuse they deserve!”

  The crowd breaks out of their stupor and you could hear a collective breath. Then the cheers and screams resohroughout the stadium, louder than ever before. What they’d just seen is something nobody will ever fet.

  Not the people.

  Not the [Announcer].

  And especially not the Royals in charge of s these extremely expensive beasts. Specifically, the basilisk. Hellion is old and has beeing weaker and weaker every year. The fact it survived for so long is impressive on at of it’s tenacity, but it’s wounded form no longer impresses the crowd. But the basilisk is young and not even at its prime yet. It would have grer and more dangerous- a perfect beast for the upper-level fights. Now it’s dead and the Royals are having an emergency meeting.

  __________________________________________________________

  “How did this happen?” Fmentine Christof, the [Governor of Games] asks his patriots at his table. A total of three others who rule Gdius alongside him.

  “You uimated him,” Stavros eas, retired [Gdiator Champion] and current [Gang Leader] of the Warrior. “That man, Boriss. From what I hear, he’s either some extremely high-level [Spy] that lie about his css, or he’s an experienced batant that’s never been stressed enough to get to that final level.”

  “His css is [Skirmisher] and he went into the match at level eighteen,” Loukia drotzi, [Gang Leader] of the Crusts expins. “He’s also a crewman for a [Captain] Quasi Eludo of a rune frigate named Timbergrove. The [Quartermaster] Cillian Walce has pced incredibly rge bets on Boriss, all of which are paying off. I believe the crew knows Boriss is extremely capable and expects him to win his rounds.”

  Fmentine frowns. He turns to the st member oable. “What are your thoughts?”

  An older, skinny man with a long flowing beard leans over the table. Miltiadis Rossallis, the first and only [Gang Leader] of the Royals grins at his great-grandson. “Whether he is a [spy] or not matters little. What matters is that we win at the end. Allow this Boriss to win and gain the crowds love and trust. They will bet money on him, and with each win, more and more bets will be pced. Thehe end, Boriss will find himself against a foe of a level far higher than he hope to surpass.

  “That’s whe against him and make enough trist to easily afford several basilisks,” Loukia says. “Brilliant.”

  “I’ll prepare the oppo,” Stavros says. “Just find a [Mage] who cast [Gmor] and we easily switch him out with one of our tracted [Gdiators].”

  The [Governor] sighs at the ease of which his advisors move to subterfuge. He wishes he just foaking the tours fun and engaging instead of stantly being forced to manipute the games so as to maximize profits.

  “Just don’t get caught,” He warns and ends the meeting.