Bastian ground his teeth as he was fitted into a traditional suit of Sun Follower armour; a long red tunic tied with a leather belt at his waist. He had nothing underneath, not even his breeches. His feet were strapped with leather sandals, quite a different feel from the boots he'd been wearing.
A wooden sword was placed in his hand. He clenched his fist around the leather wrapped handle. He would not die.
He couldn't die without saving Cadarama, his mother, Hydrangea. He couldn't die without living his life with Hydrangea. He couldn't die without at least making love to her once. Making love… he scoffed lightly. He'd always found the phrase rather ridiculous, but it fit his feelings so acutely. He wanted to make love to Hydrangea. And he would, he thought determinedly as he stared at the sword in his hand.
No matter what.
He was shoved out into the rain, the mud and bloodstained arena welcoming him with jeers. His body could not do this, he was still in agony and his hands were blistering from the Amaru's poison. He could not do this, on his own. He cursed himself but knew this was the best way. Lifting a prayer to Samadur he hoped the Primal could help him in this land.
The first and only time he'd asked for this, he couldn't fully remember the fight itself. This time, he hoped he would. He wanted to fight, his hands were ready to kill something, to let out his rage and frustration with his life, his fortune.
He grasped his sword and held it in his middle, the rain still pouring down on him. Breathing in a breath of air he smirked as he felt the rush of power enter his veins. Looking up, across the span of the muddy field he took courage knowing he was surrounded by water.
He gathered the saliva in his mouth and spat on the ground, joining with the water already there. His eyes levelled on where he knew the Tlatoani was sitting. He would win this fight, he wasn't sure what would happen afterwards but surely there would be a reward of sorts.
A yell sounded from his right and he turned his head to see a warrior charging towards him with a club. He ducked with ease and moved closer to the centre of the arena, the mud sloshing beneath his feet. The Selvan stumbled but righted himself and swung his club at Bastian. He jumped back and ducked as another swing came his way. He was rather surprised that the mud wasn't slippery and he was balancing easily.
While the warrior was distracted with trying to strike Bastian's shoulder, he bent his knees and sliced the inside of the warrior's thigh. The man cried out and Bastian swivelled on his feet and kicked the man's ankles, causing him to fall. As soon as the man was on the ground he held the wooden sword to his throat, "Do you yield?" He growled out.
The rain was becoming more violent, just as his thoughts were. The warrior glared are him, his lips twisted in a snarl, then he spat at him. Bastian's face twisted into one of distaste. Without further ado, he drove his sword into the warrior's neck. His clothes were splattered with the blood and he swallowed back the chilled feeling he felt at it.
He was not going to let himself feel that, it would lead to hesitation, which would lead to death. And he would not die today. For Hydrangea, he closed his eyes for a second and pictured her, for Hydrangea.
A door opened across from him. The arena walls were four metres high before they turned into seats, but for some odd reason the Tlatoani's personnel seating area was only a metre off the ground. Out of the door came two Sun Follower warriors, both armed with spears.
Bastian raised a brow; the Mathuban's favourite weapon was a spear, he'd been trained his whole life how to fight against them.
The first swung the tip at his face and the second threw his at Bastian's chest. He dodged both and spun so he was behind one. He elbowed the warrior's neck and turned to face the other one but was kicked in the gut.
He stumbled backwards and choked out a gasp. Another kick came at his side and he was knocked to the ground.
The rain battered him, each drop digging into his skin. He clenched his fists in the mud, the muck already drenching his clothes. He felt so angry and he wasn't sure why. There were so many things he felt bitter and hateful about.
He knocked down one of the warriors sneaking up behind him. Taking hold of the spear that the other held he used leverage against him and had him on the ground next to the other. Both seemed affected by the rain, Bastian felt invigorated by it.
He stalked to where his sword lay in the mud and drew it into his hands. A keen sting erupted on his arm and he slid to his right before turning back and stabbing the man who'd cut him through the ribs.
Before he moved on he checked his arm and found it dripping with blood. He'd have to deal with that.
A loud shout burst from the stands and Bastian looked up, blinking in the rain, at the masses of Sun Followers. Letting his anger fuel him he marched towards the second warrior who was standing with his spear at the ready, poised to let fly.
Bastian knew he looked evil, knew he was the villain in this fight. But he was angry.
He leaned to the left as the spear flew past him. Angry for Cadarama. He lunged for the man and tackled him to the ground. Angry for Hadok. His fists berated the man's face. Angry at Timir-mask. With a final blow to the jaw he knew the man was out. Angry at himself.
He stood, his bleeding hands still itching to fight.
"Bastian."
He swivelled on his heel and faced the Tlatoani's seat. He could've sworn he'd heard her say his name. But it must've just been the rain.
He turned at the sound of doors creaking open. On either side of the arena were two large gates, coming out of them were two large blood dogs. Their hackles were raised, their already bloodstained teeth gnashing.
Picking up a spear he took aim, his gaze sure and his grip unwavering. With one toss the spear soared towards the dog and impaled its abdomen.
Bastian turned his deadly gaze to the second dog who was growling but standing its ground. Taking up his bloodied sword again he rushed towards the massive, hellish canine.
He took swipe after swipe, blow after blow, strike after strike until the sun sunk below the horizon and the arena was lit by covered fires. His strength had not wavered, but his mind had grown tired.
Swinging the butt of his spear at a gravel spider he knocked it on its side. Taking his sword he stabbed through its head.
Bastian stepped back to breathe, the rain had not relented and his body was drenched in rain, his soaked hair sticking to his face.
He couldn't keep track of how many creatures he'd killed, his legs were dripping with rain and blood, some his own and some others.
He still burned with anger, but this wasn't helping. This fighting only made him more frustrated at his life, at his actions. He was only happy that Hydrangea wasn't watching him now, drenched in the blood of others.