The spectators roar excitedly as Praxidike releases the tension in his muscles and watches his opponent emerge from the tunnel, where he had been shielded from the screams and forceful fists throughout the arena. Although this is one of many fights he takes on, Praxidike surges with adrenaline. Nothing could compare to the pleasure of victory. Prax steps forward, swearing the oath as his opponent does the same. They halt just 15 feet away from each other and hear the menacing bell chime radiate throughout the stadium, instructing them to start. Prax advances, raising his sword to make the first strike, but finds himself fighting with strength when his opponent blocks the slash with a shield and knocks the sword out of Prax's hand. Immediately, his opponent shifts to strike again as Prax holds his arms up to protect his head. Suddenly, the roars of the crowd dissipate, and white dust swarms around his opponent, completely enclosing them in a white space. Time seems to slow down as if hoping Prax would think of a way to easily defeat his opponent.
Uhhh…What is happening?
Prax looks down, flipping his hands, realizing that he can move freely while his opponent's iron arm ever so slightly slices the air. Prax grips onto the fist of the floating limb and hesitantly blinks. In that second, the crowd reappears, and time speeds up to real life. Prax receives the full power of the opponent's punch in his palm, but his stance never falters, thanks to the rigorous training all gladiators undergo.
Each gladiator spends hours, days, and weeks on end of only exercises to build muscles, strength, and endurance. After years of muscle and strength are built up, they start sparring with others in training without any knowledge of how to fight. They have to find a way to fight if they want to survive. If there are too many slaves that are in training to become gladiators, many times, the sparring is forced to end in fights to the death, which Prax has had to experience many times, obviously being the one alive. Eventually, the only trainees left were the strongest who were able to win fights no matter what weather and circumstances. With weapons or none, they were victorious. And Prax was the best of the best.
He blinks again, and just as he assumed, he comes back to the white world, but time is a little bit faster than before. Now, his opponent takes only several seconds to strike, but Prax easily blocks them by ducking. Slowly but surely, the opponent's strikes pick up speed, and Prax realizes that the white world is fading out. Luckily, the white world disappearing is not a problem because it is just what he needs. He blocks a punch on his left side and quickly glances to find the sword that lies to the right of him. Immediately, Prax evades his opponent's punch and picks up his sword. Fortunately, his opponent is too slow and ends up losing his arm to Prax's sword. Within seconds, the fight is over as death surprises his opponent, and Prax's victory is announced.