Chapter 67
Year 163 – Fall – Sextus Mensis – 12th day
Year 724 – Yarahma – 14th day
Madinat Almudun, Coniuntasien Sea
Under the dazzling sun, musicians were playing a lively song while the seats of the coliseum were being filled by the crowd. On another day, few would have come, but this day was unusual, and even the warmth couldn’t stop the travellers from joining in. A private area in the upper seating was being guarded by eight men.
Under a small roof, a prince from one of the southern kingdoms was sitting in the company of a Celestial Trader. Between the two of them was sitting a girl of mixed origin who was the translator of the Celestial Trader.
The prince – “Was that event really necessary, Haratim El-Salik?”
Haratim – “Nazeeha, if you please.”
Nazeeha – “He questioned the need for the event.”
Haratim – “The heat will eventually go down, and he’ll enjoy the event.”
Nazeeha – “Prince Hamza, my master requests your patience.”
Prince Hamza – “The fights better be good.”
Nazeeha – “He is disappointed.”
Haratim – “I can see that. Prince Hamza, I didn’t request your presence to show you a pit fight. This event is to pay back the time I’m borrowing from you.”
Nazeeha – “My master says the event is a payback for the time he is borrowing.”
Haratim – “King Laith is still young.”
The prince looked at him, intrigued by hearing his brother’s name.
Haratim – “You are one day younger than him, which means you’ll never get to rule your own as long as he’ll live.”
Nazeeha – “My master says you’ll never be king unless a tragic event occurs to your brother.”
Prince Hamza – “I would never do such a thing! My brother and I are like the root of the same tree!”
Nazeeha – “He thinks you want to make a coup.”
Haratim – “What if you could stay young and become stronger while your brother kept aging? What if you could be . . . immortal?”
As Nazeeha translated his words, the prince looked at the Celestial Trader, perplexed. Haratim then pulled a small vial from his pocket. A dark smoke was emanating from a strange grey flame inside the glass bottle. Haratim placed the item on a plate filled with fruits.
Haratim – “This small vial is worth 20,000 shells.”
Nazeeha repeated his words in the prince’s language, making him frown.
Prince Hamza – “What’s this alchemy? What does it do?”
Nazeeha – “He asks its properties.”
Haratim – “Inhaling this will make you recover your youthful strength and even more. I fed a few decades of these to my personal pet over the course of a few years, he’ll fight half a hundred men before your eyes.”
Upon hearing Nazeeha, the prince asked her to repeat, upon which he looked at the trader, confused. On the other side of the coliseum, Alphael and Velit were reaching their seats.
Velit – “Why did you agree to sell it to them for such a cheap price?”
Alphael – “That trader over there. You see him?”
Velit – “Yeah, he is a Celestial Trader and the one next to him seems to be from royalty. Probably one of the Southern kings.”
Alphael – “He bought my 48 remaining men this morning for 6,000 shells, which is on the low end of reasonable, but he also said he’d give me a thousand shells for any slaves who survive this event.”
Velit – “Cause you think he’d do that without being sure none would survive?”
Alphael – “Of course not, but they are not my slaves anymore. So, I gambled against them. You see, most people here think this is just another pit fight amongst others. Maybe a few think it will be greater because of who organised it, but what matters is they don’t know who will win, yet I do.”
Velit – “When? I was with you the whole time.”
Alphael – “When you were drinking booze. No wonder you couldn’t buy a new boat with that attitude of yours.”
Velit – “How much did you gamble?”
Alphael – “Five thousand shells if they all die. Two thousand if less than five survive. This way, if they survive, either I’ll hedge my investment or fill my purse because of my agreement, and if they don’t, I’ll have sold them for a price range slightly above average for a total of 9,000 shells.”
Under the seating, the slaves were being handed a buckler and a scimitar before entering a narrow tunnel where they could hear the crowd.
The announcer – “FROM THE NORTHERN BARBARIANS WHO RAVAGED THE LANDS OF THE ITIALKA EMPIRES ALL THE WAY TO THE EASTERN NAR EMPIRE. I WELCOME THE BARBARIANS OF VALE!”
At that moment, the doors to the arena opened, blinding their sights. When Ethen stepped on the burning sand of the arena, he could hear spectators screaming in a foreign tongue. His eyes quickly adapted, revealing a crowd of a few hundred. Ethen crouched and grabbed some sand, which he rubbed on both of his hands to get rid of the moisture drenching his hands. Upon hearing a loud voice, the crowd went silent.
The announcer – “FACING THEM WILL BE THE STRONGEST NAR TIGER IN THE WORLD. OWNED BY THE CELESTIAL TRADER, HARATIM EL-SALIK, I WELCOME, ARCHENAR!”
Two large chains that were buried under the sand quickly revealed themselves as 20 men pulled them from behind the walls of the arena. Everyone turned their sight to a large trap in the ground that was being pulled back. Once it was pulled halfway, the pulling stopped, leaving the whole arena in silence as the crowd looked at the dark area underneath the ground.
Ethen, who was a few steps away from it, was looking steadily at the shadows when a heavy growling echoed in the arena.
Ethen – “REGROUP!”
Barely had he said a word when a giant tiger leaped from the shadow. Ethen jumped backward while pointing his curved blade forward, but the tiger wasn’t after him. The beast dived above him. It was as large as a bear, yet much taller.
Ethen turned around and saw the beast shredding one of his own companions in half like he was made of cloth. Ethen went up and charged the beast.
Ethen – “SURROUND IT! SURROUND IT!”
The tiger jumped forward, biting another man’s leg before pulling it off, leaving the man screaming in agony. Reaching the beast, Ethen threw his buckler to the tiger’s face, slashed its paw, and dashed to the side while keeping his guard high. He looked at the tiger and realised it wasn’t even bleeding.
How? I’m sure I cut it. I felt it!
A dark smoke was coming out of its paw as if the wound had cauterised itself. The Vale men charged the surrounding foe with tens of blades, yet, the tiger shredded its way through the gladiators and ran further away to attack those who were isolated. Four blades were stuck in its back, and somehow, it was still walking. A dark smoke was coming out of each of its wounds. The 20 regrouped gladiators were looking at the beast slaughtering the other companions one after the other.
Slave 1 – “Daemon . . .”
Slave 2 – “How!?”
Slave 3 – “Why . . .”
Prince Hamza – “Madness . . .”
Haratim – “This power could be yours, Prince Hamza.”
Ethen’s arms were shaking. For the first time in more than a decade, he was afraid of death. For the first time since his sister passed away, he had a reason to live. He hadn’t thought much of it since then, but as he kept walking through the barrens, a single thought had occupied his mind.
Why now? Of all times, why won’t you let me leave this land in peace?
The tiger bit one of the blades stuck in its back and pulled it out. It was filled with blood, yet nothing but dark smoke came out of his wounded flesh.
No! That’s wrong. She wouldn’t want to see me desperate like that.
Ethen looked around him. His people were terrorized. The shredded corpses of their friends were lying around. Ethen grabbed a second blade and walked toward the tiger. The beast was growling while showing its large teeth to Ethen. The crowd was silent.
Ethen began to run toward the beast. Seeing him, the tiger charged and leapt forward with his claws wide open. Ethen stepped to the side while slashing the tiger’s paw with the tips of his scimitars. The beast tried to rise on its back paw to gain height over its opponent, but Ethen stepped to the side and crouched underneath the tiger’s swipe. As soon as the tiger landed, Ethen jumped above its head. The tiger turned toward him, revealing his sharp teeth when Ethen stabbed its eye with his scimitar, stocking the blade in the tiger’s head with the weight and strength of his entire body.
Reaching the ground, the cat stepped back in a hurry, thrashing its head around under the scream of the crowd.
Prince Hamza – “Who’s this man?”
Haratim – “I share your curiosity.”
Ethen took the opportunity and ran toward his weakened foe, yet as soon as he reached the tiger, the beast bashed him with such strength, Ethen was sent rolling. His whole body was in pain. He couldn’t move his left arm. It seemed broken. Pushed by his boiling blood, Ethen got up on his knee, using a scimitar as a support to lean on. The tiger had lowered its head, and using its paw, the cat broke the blade in half, leaving a sharp shredded chunk of steel stuck in its right lobe.
Ethen was breathing heavily. Blood was flowing down his arm. The beast was looking at him with its remaining eye, growling. Haratim rose from his bench and stepped near the fence.
Haratim – “ARCHENAR! AIQTALAH!”
Leaving a cloud of dust behind its steps, the tiger sprinted toward his foe and tried to bite him. Stepping out of the tiger’s vision, Ethen dodged the attack by inches. He struck the tiger’s head and tried to pull his blade off, but it was stuck in the beast’s skull. In that single moment of hesitation, the tiger slashed Ethen’s leg with its claws, shredding his left calf away. In a scream of pain, Ethen fell to the ground without letting the scimitar’s handle go.
The tiger tried to bite him, but keeping his grip firm, Ethen was being dragged around in the sand when the other gladiators came to his rescue and attacked the tiger sporadically. Leaving Ethen to the ground, the tiger ran to the side and jumped on those who were still standing. One after the other, they were being shredded apart.
I’m not dying here!
Ethen crawled to his side and grabbed a scimitar. Doubling down on his effort, he slowly rose up. The tiger was dragging around the few remaining gladiators. Two others were trying to climb the wall when eight arrows pierced their backs. Ethen raised his guard with his remaining arm. Determined to take down his foe with his own downfall, he was looking at the tiger while standing on his right leg.
Just come here! I’m ready!
The beast had so many wounds he seemed covered in smoke.
Haratim – “TAJLUS!”
At Ethen’s shock, the tiger sat on the ground and waited while growling at him. Ethen’s blood loss was hitting him. His hands were shaking.
Ethen – “COME AT ME, YOU COWARD!”
The tiger wasn’t moving. Ethen then tried to walk with his crippled limb, but the tiger wasn’t moving. His vision was getting blurry as his target remained still. As he tried to make his fifth step, Ethen fell unconscious.
