Carson gasped, and coughed as water filled his lungs, the splash hit him hard enough to sting, and force its way down his throat. The men around him laughed in dark humor. The young man opened his eyes, still coughing the water out of his lungs, when he felt another smash of water against his face, forcing his head into the concrete wall behind him. He pulled his head up trying to open his eyes through the water running down his face.
The men around him spoke in the same broken speech that Grimlock had, obviously trying to get their point across to him without knowing his language. "Get up boy. Time to fight" Carson felt the men lift him off of the ground and saw the iron bars around him open to reveal a long, beige, stone corridor. They threw him to his feet. "Walk." The man that spoke spit on him. "You fight un-blessed, if you win good, you fight stronger men... Or beasts" He pointed toward the light coming from the end of the tunnel and spoke one last time. "Go."
Carson spit back at him, and calmly gave the man some much needed words of wisdom "go fuck yourself." He received in return a punch that he swiftly dodged. The man was fuming but Carson didn't seem to take notice as he proceeded towards the light. He heard the roars of people growing louder, and the announcers booming voice, not dissimilar to the voice that ordered the firing squad to kill him.
Carson had expected to not understand any of the words that the announcer would be saying, but surprisingly, it felt the same as when he had tried to speak the language of the Athenians upon first entering this world. It was like they weren't speaking another language, but rather his native tongue. He laughed 'These angry little guys would be sooo pissed if they knew I could speak their language.'
"Here we have our newest addition to the coliseum, and fighting under Grimlock. He is a prisoner of war from our recent skirmish against the Athenians, he alone was responsible for about half the deaths to our soldiers." He exited the tunnel, the growing noise turning to boos and jeers as he bathed in the light. The sun was reflecting off of everything around him, leaving his sight strained and painful. He looked up to where the announcer sat, and could barely make out the mans form. Before he could think on it more however, the man spoke again drawing in his interest. "His opponent in this match will be the current holder of the second place position in the unblessed ranks. He is also fighting under Grimlock as a prisoner."
He gestured to the two men in the arena. "Men! Choose Your Weapons!" Carson looked around and found a small weapon rack to the left of him, on it he could see the same bronze staff that he had used before. The young man smiled as he picked it up, 'Grimlock must've added this to the options I had. At least someone here isn't a total dick.' He picked up the rod and spun it around before letting it rest beside him. It felt like a limb had returned to him.
The center divider lowered, the spears that came out of the ground retreating back into holes that ran along the center line. It was smaller than he had expected, approximately the size of a basketball court, and a rough oval in shape. Oddly enough, there stood a lone gated door to the side of the arena, right next to the barrier.
When the spikes had fully entered the ground, he finally got a look at his opponent. He was a tall African man, about the same height as Carson's six two, and was even more muscular. The armor that covered his body was a black metal, accented in pristine white cloth. It was a beautiful piece, one that greatly contrasted with Carson, who only wore a raggedy gray loincloth. That didn't matter to the young man however, he had already found his flow with the staff, and was quite confident in his abilities. However, he didn't let that cloud his mind, his opponent was also taken from a battlefield, likely for the same reason he was.
His opponent had made his choice aswell, picking up a short but wide sword, one with no guard and a single handed design. The man looked very experienced with his weapon, the flow with which he had swung it made Carson's own look like a child playing with a stick.
They both ran forward upon the signal gong being sounded, and clashed moments later. The Black man matched every swing he made with rebounding force, blocking his strikes, and weaving in more between them. He felt the oddly made sword cut lines along him, many that he had failed to dodge, but they were never more than skin deep, the blade was dulled from wear over time, and Carson's durability had been strengthened by the crystal that had saved his life.
The young man found his opponents fighting style full of flaws however, unlike what he had expected with the flourishing beauty he had wielded it with earlier. The speed at which he could see, having been improved with his stolen eye, allowed him to see these flaws. The swords swings were littered with small lapses in defense and openings in the gladiator's guard. Carson lifted his staff under one of those openings, the bronze luster shining off of the rod in the intense light of the arena. It crumpled the black armor into a concave shape, pushing the deformed armor into the gladiator's ribs and limiting his range of motion. The swing ripped through the air after hitting his chest, knocking the helmet off of his head. He was hunched over as he backed off, trying to alleviate the pressure on his chest.
Carson backed off aswell, planning his next brutal advance. His opponent had dropped off his gauntlets and arm bracers, aswell as most other pieces of armor, presumably because he would be at a severe disadvantage if his movement was limited any further. Seeing this though, the young man smiled, he would be able to do so much more without his opponents armor holding him back. If it was a fair fight, he had no doubt that he would've won already.
The two gladiators ran at each other again, filling the air with sonorous sounds of metal on metal. Carson swung - downward this time - and hit his opponent's free hand. It snapped, blood trailing down the compound fracture as the African man dodged away. The bright crimson contrasting against the white bone and his black skin was a sight to behold. But Carson wouldn't let him retreat, he followed and swung again, this time hitting the mans dominant arm; the hit resonated with a loud crack: another compound fracture. Both of the mans arms were destroyed, and he was no longer in fighting condition. The sword he held slipped out of his grasp as the nerves that had controlled his arm were severed.
Carson looked to the announcers booth, but instead of his victory being announced all he heard was an annoyed tone, "Finish Him." The black man he was fighting backed away from his opponent, who was now looking less young, and more like a grizzled warrior. That warrior sighed in his advance towards the crippled gladiator before him, giving the man some final words before his departure to the great beyond. "You gave me a good fight, may your death let you rest in peace" The African man fell to his knees before the warrior, head bowed.
"Goodbye."
Carson swung, both hands holding the staff, and hit the man's head. There was no helmet to protect it from the staff, so upon contact it fractured. The head exploded in a mist of gore and bone, layering the surrounding ground in a coat of red. The warm blood covered Carson's bare feet as he turned and walked from the dead man.
His wounds were numerous, but none so severe, only leaving small trails of his own blood to run along them. But he wasn't focused on that, he cared much more about the small booklet, with cryptic runes littering its cover, that had just appeared in his hand. He looked to the stands, all the while dropping his newfound booklet into the small pouch secured to the loincloth. Somehow his captors had forgotten to take it from him, it was likely a property that the bag contained while in a trial.
He had gotten his first Knowledge of the ancients.
"Victory for the newbie!" The crowd boo-ed, their bloodlust not satiated by the display they had received. "Are you not satisfied? Should we release the pack?" The announcer spoke, addressing the crowd. His words were met with a reply of cheers "Well, well, well. Looks like its your lucky day newbie, you get to fight the pack... Release them!" Shouts echoed around him as the spectators roared in approval at the decision.
Carson sighed in resignation as he looked for the opponents he would now have to face. What he saw - or rather heard - made him frown. Around him sounded the maniacal laughter of hyenas. 'Fuck my life, i just want to read my book thingy.' Carson groaned in his mind, though that whiny voice he thought with was contrasting oddly with his blood covered, demonic appearance.
He found himself surrounded by the beasts in mere moments, surprisingly only a few of the many had chosen to focus on him; most seemed to prefer the already dead body. The warrior dropped down into stance, watching the circling hyenas as he gripped his staff. They lunged. He pulled his staff back, managing to stop two of the hyenas from sinking their jaws into him, but a couple still managed to latch on.
He yelled in pain as he felt the serrated teeth saw into his muscle, but he didn't stop. One of his hands let go of the staff and grabbed the jaw of the hyena latched onto his leg. He pulled directly back, trying not to let the teeth deal more damage as he did. The hyena squealed in pain as it felt its jaw being forcibly removed from its head. The others around it backed away from the warrior, but didn't run; they circled around him. Carson gripped tightly, trying to stop the blood-flow from the injury on his hand caused by the hyenas teeth. It stung, but so did all of the other wounds that littered his body.
He pulled his mind away from the stinging pain coming over him. Instead he focused on one word - survive - he felt it repeat in his mind, relieving him of his pain as he gave his brain a distraction. The hyenas around him were about to dive in for another round of attack, but the gladiator was ready this time. He felt the wind shift in their lunge, and he swung his staff in reply. All three of the attacking hyenas were hit, most in the chest, but the first in the head. The small head of the animal disappeared into a puddle upon the hit, and the small bits of tissue and bone still connected flapped back in recoil. The other two hyenas weren't as lucky to be given a quick death however, both of them were functionally gutted, the staff having broken open their abdominal cavity.
Carson turned to the rest of the pack. He killed them slowly, but not for a lack of trying. The majority of them had used the openings in his guard during each swing to launch an attack in return, causing countless bite wounds to mark his body.
After the fight Carson was a wreck, blood flowed down from him in waves, making him light headed, and chunks of flesh and muscle were missing from where they should've been, you could even see his bones in spots.
Upon the final hyenas death however, instead of boos like he had expected, he was met with cheers louder than any he had heard so far. "Well, that's quite unexpected..." The announcer spoke again "Its normally a death sentence, but it looks like we have another one to have survived the pack, an unblessed, and a newbie at that. Hmm... I believe that the current champion was the only other who had ever done that. Any words you'd like to say then newbie?" The man in the booth up above him seemed to speak in genuine admiration of the young warrior. But when the man asked if he wanted to say anything, Carson couldn't help but smile as he thought of the words he would speak once again today. He stood tall, and felt the Echo of the man encompass his voice as he spoke his words of immense wisdom, a grin plaguing his features.
"Go Fuck Yourselves!"