Dracula, that's this kid's name? How did Dracula come here, that's a Romanian name, how did Romanians get here? Were there others before me that crossed worlds?
"Hey, Dracula, how and when did you hear that name?"
'Dracula' stops walking and turns to face me. "What does it matter where I heard that name?"
"It matters, because we both know sure as Hell, that name isn't from here. If someone else came before me, I'd like to know."
He chuckles at my answer, "What would it matter if someone came before you? They're already very much dead, they couldn't help you now."
They're already dead? So someone else did come. Slip of the tongue, thank you. I relent my questioning, asking, "Fine, just... tell me where we're going. You said something about a fight earlier, is that something I should be worried about?"
"Now those questions, are easy to answer. We're currently heading to the Arena and you'll be fighting in it. Don't worry, nobody dies in it, many wish they did though."
Well that doesn't ease my tension, but it's better than nothing. We walk in silence while the corridor gives way to a large open room.
Dracula stops in the center of the room and conjures a black staff. Planting it into the ground, a doorway appears in the northern(?) wall. "Through that door is the Arena's Armory, get yourself a weapon, some armor, and wait."
I nod and start walking towards the door before stopping. Turning around, I ask, "Hey, Dracula, how much am I getting paid for this? Gotta know if it's worth my while."
"Don't worry, you'll have enough to buy whatever type of present Ryung wants."
My fists clench at the mention of Ryung. How much does this man know about me and my family? Ignoring his answer, I head through the door, ready to choose my weapon.
Upon entering the room, I am met with three pedestals, all holding weapons. The first, a gladius-esc short sword with gold engraving, second is a great two handed axe with the head in the shape of dragon's wing, and lastly; a two meter spear bearing depiction of a black god. I ignore the other weapons and grab the spear. As soon as its taken off of the pedestal they start sinking into the ground.
From the eastern wall comes three mannequins, all garbed in different levels of armoring. The left most wears Steel plate, not unlike the one that one customer wore to during my shift at work. The middle is a mix of light leather gambeson and iron mail, while the last and most right is only a gambeson with some light arm and shin guards.
I grab the the light gambeson when it suddenly starts morphing over my clothes and flesh. The sensation of minor rugburn pours over my body as the armor slowly shifts and turns before coming to a stop. When the ordeal is done, a mirror appears in front of me on the wall. Looking into it, I'm fully clothed by the armor that now has iron studding on the knuckles, for extra oomph with punches.
I now have my weapon and armor, so where's the arena? I wait for maybe five minutes before the wall shifts and grates until there's an opening. There's no way what I'm about to do is legal. Thinking that, I walk through the opening and start falling.
After a minute of nearly crapping myself in fear, I reach the bottom. I decelerated before hitting it but my left ankle turns sore from it. I look around and see what appears to be a Coliseum-esc arena, filled to the brim with spectators. In front of me is a red skinned humanoid with root like horns growing from right above its tempals.
It shiveres and shiftes, not as if it's nervous, but akin to it waiting, itching, to kill me. Its yellow and green eyes were fixated on me, the left hand clenched until it drew its black blood. Merely looking at this thing filled me with dread, like looking at a tiger right before it pounced. We stood still for God knows how long before a Dung of metal drum resounded in the arena.
With that it flew towards me, crude black blade in hand. It swung down, hard and fast. I barely dodge out of the way yet still get grazed. First blood has been shed. A retaliation kick from me sends it sprawling meters away.
Positioning my weapon, I stab at the Red-Skinn. It deftly dodges and grabs hold of my spear. It yanks the spear, bringing me with it. I am brought to my knees as a blade black at pitch falls down upon me, tearing into my shoulder. Red blood oozes out and flows into the sands. Burning pain cuts through me, terrible horrible pain.
I can scarcely breathe with the pain. But I push through it, grabbing the Red-Skinn's midsection and pull towards me and take a bite, digging my teeth into it. The creature yelps in pain and surprise at my biting of it. I dig deeper, bite harder. Blood spurts in my mouth, a terrible copper taste fills it and yet still I bite.
The blade is pulled from my back and brought down again, cracking the collar bone and causing more blood to flow. At the same time I grab hold of its midsection and yank my head back, taking a large chunk of flesh from it. I quickly get to my feet while the Red-Skinn falls onto its rear, a look fear upon it face. Its intestines peek through the little hole I caused.
I spit out the piece of flesh and smile at the bastard. Fear fills its eyes, looking at the one that'll kill it. We both stand up and look at each other, our blood staining these blood red sands.
"Come on you bastard, Give me your best shot!"
And with that we start again. It swings towards my neck only to get repelled by an aptly timed shift. I thrust back and merely graze its cheek. My limbs are getting weaker, my consciousness lighter. If I want to live I have to kill it Now!
I throw my spear, underhanded, at the Red-Skinn. At the same time I start sprinting towards it. It dodges my spear but doesn't evade the tackle. I bring us both tumbling to the ground, where I have the advantage. Grabbing its arms and holding tightly, I start slam my head into its.
The horns upon its head removes skin and flesh from mine but I don't care. I slam my head again, and again, and again. A blaring headache forms from the repeated attacks. Blood spurts over and over with each consecutive headbutt. Eventually I hurt too much to continue and simply lay upon the Red-Skinn, its broken face a testament to my will and forehead.
My eyesight starts to get blurry, my hands unclamp the Red-Skinn's, and my thoughts slow. Is this how I die? What a shitty way to go.