I was wedged between two fighting forces, with one bearing down on me. A vanguard of two dozen raced ahead of the others to engage me. I must hold the enemy commander's attention long enough for Sven and the others to capture the golden flag. If there was even someone in command of the golden force. 'Just a little longer.' I draw the vanguard right towards the besieging Orcs. The audience roars with overwhelming excitement at the turn of events. Salivating at the prospects of three opposing armies clashing in an epic battle. The cheers only fueled the raging Orcs bashing against the barriers of our stronghold. Before long, I was barreling through unaware Orcs from the rear. Cutting down any that threatened to turn their weapon on me. I used the confusion and fog of war to make my way to the north gate. As planned, it was open, and Grey was drawing them in as a distraction. The silver warriors were doing an effective job of defending our Castle. As I battled inside, I saw Ballio clearing a path ahead. He must have noticed me coming. Just as I had counted on. The seasoned veterans pathed the way from me to leap over the defensive barriers. Just as I clear the line, a chorus of horns blows.
"That's it! Sven must have the flag!" Ballio yelled.
"Go check the tower!" I shouted.
The fighting is far from over. Our line was still being pressed by the Orcs. They were in a raging frenzy now. Nevertheless, we held them for now. I made my way to the tower. The gold army clashed with the Orcish horde, surrounding them as they encircled our Castle. Fierce battling played out in front of me. All the while, a silent army of black-cloaked warriors moved in. The battling forces were unaware of the coming death creeping in.
"They're going to purge the battlefield," Ballio stated.
"Look over there. Sven has the gold flag," I said.
Sven, Aslaug, and Ellisif were surrounded by the arena warriors. They were being escorted out of the northern arena gate. Another chorus of horns blew. Then, like cogs in a machine, the arena warriors march in from all sides. Armed with tower shields and spears. Archers trailed them, ready to unleash a halo of death upon the unsuspecting battle. We'd be murdered along with the attacking armies. The only source of cover was the few structures inside our Castle.
"Get everyone without a shield inside the buildings now!" I yelled.
Those that understood heeded my order. It was a little cover, but it had to do.
"Shield users, defend the north gate!" Ballio ordered.
"We need to close the gate before the arena warriors attack!" I stated.
"Right!" Ballio said.
We race to the north gate and join Grey, Frida, and Runa. The battle grew with each moment. Even with the heavy Orcish casualties, we were still overwhelmed. The gold army had cut a route through the embattled Orcs right to the gate. It was a matter of time before the arena warriors ended this afternoon's event. Only those with shields now defended our north and south entrance. The south doors were buckling to make matters worse. Suddenly a towering Orc rushed into the gate, breaking the defensive encampment. The green-skinned terror charged in, knocking anyone in his way aside with his gigantic club. On instinct, I counter-charge the berserker, clashing our weapons together in a loud smash. His eyes are crazed, and viscous blood drips from his mouth. Only then did I realize every last Orc I had slain was afflicted. 'Chemical or biological warfare? No, that can't be it. A disease, then? Why would the Oromanians risk exposing their own people unless this was strictly an Orc problem? But, of course, that wasn't it either, as viral warfare is unpredictable even in modern times. At least for my world, it was. This had to be a drug-induced frenzy. Only now taking full effect.'
I spot the same taint affecting the gold warriors attacking us. I didn't see any signs of our side being infected. What I did come to realize was the sheer power this towering Orc had. His physical limiters were off, granting him strength well beyond average. We'd be slaughtered had it not been for the fact the attacking forces were turning on each other. A new fast-growing chaos formed as a bloodbath played out around our stronghold. Another giant Orc battles with Ballio. The brute I was holding off threatened to overpower me even with my augmented strength. Then, the beast of an Orc fell forward, almost pushing me to the ground. An arrow slammed into the ground by my back leg. More came raining down around me. The others without shields retreated to the buildings. Everyone else used their shields for cover. All That saved me was the body of the gigantic Orc. Bodies dropped all around me like files. I pitied the crazed fighting without care. At least death would be quick for them. Behind that crazed madness were pain and suffering.
In moments, the hail of arrows silenced the remaining fighting. Arrow-ridden bodies lay around me. Blood and sand mixed to create a crimson mud cover ground. The smell of iron and death reeked heavily. All this happening while the audience roars with fanatic elation. I push the dead Orc to the side, scanning the field. The sound of the announcer's voice filled the Colosseum.
"There you have it! The legionnaires of the Gormarian Empire are victorious over the savage hordes or the Orcish Invasion!" the announcer yelled.
Fireworks exploded overhead in a grand display. The crowd erupted into a frenzy of cheers.
"Due to the unexpected and miraculous triumph of the winning participants, this evening's event is canceled. But do not fret! A series of one-on-one battles have been organized in place. These will run well into the night!" the announcer yelled.
The audience grows in renewed vigor at the festivities running into the night. None of us had the time to celebrate our survival. Arena warriors enter the Castle, shields forming a wall and spears pointing at us.
"Slaves, drop your weapons and prepare to be escorted back to the slave barracks," A warrior ordered.
I didn't want to discover what would happen if I disobeyed, tossing my hammer to the ground with my daggers. The slave collar was enough to convince the other captives to do the same. Seeing no resistance, he signaled for his men to gather our weapons.
"Form a company line at once," the officer said.
In seconds, the surviving silver members made a company formation. It was another miracle that our casualties were light. Those gates were meant to hold for only a short period. Grey's quick thinking funneled the attackers to one point where we could bottleneck the enemy into a kill zone. Even if we did, the effects of the drugs would ensure we were wiped out. Our planning was the only reason we still stood.
"Now march!" the warrior officer commanded.
As we marched out of the stronghold, pink, red, and white petals rained down from above. Covering the ground in the fragrance of freshly cut flowers. The crowd sang a song I suspected was The Oromanian Kingdom's national anthem. Slaves and servants were already disposing of the dead bodies. Making way for the next event to take place.
"Such is the way of this world, my friend," Ballio whispered. "We think the worlds that we come from are better. But at some point, we were the same," he added.
"My world is worse," I whispered.
The dark-skinned warrior didn't say anything. He didn't need to say a word. Our two worlds may be more alike than I thought. I knew my world; I knew the path my world took. The devastation to the planet and our own kind. I had no room or right to judge the conditions of this society. My Earth proved that there was always something worse. If anything, this world was a paradise in comparison. Still, I would survive. Not for myself but for those that died in my world. For those here that died yesterday and now.
The track in the tunnel back to the palace barracks weighed on many of the others. There we were rejoined by the rest of the strike team. Our battle may have been less than an hour, but the tow was heavy. As we pass the gates, a warrior stops me with his halberd. A new set of warriors await. 'Are they part of the city guard?' The white and royal blue cloaks were new to me. Fancier than what the city warriors wore that I'd gleaned from my high cell loft. They were different, on another level, even than the black-cloaked arena guards. Their armor reminded me of medieval Knights, and they did not disappoint. An air of power and strength radiated from the group. One of them put his hand up.
"Halt at once! They come with us," the leader said. "relinquish these eight to our custody," he added.