The atmosphere in the Marshall family's colosseum was electric with tension. The arena, a massive circular structure carved into the earth and lined with sturdy stone walls, bore silent witness to countless battles of skill and survival. Tonight, it would serve as Hector's crucible.
The gates groaned as they opened, the sound reverberating through the arena. From the shadows emerged five Red Caps, their goblin-like forms hunched and bristling with menace. Each wielded cruel iron weapons, their jagged edges gleaming under the torchlight. Behind them came the Pukwudgies, smaller but no less dangerous, with their grey skin, large ears, and quivers of poisoned arrows slung across their backs. The last to step into the ring was the Pogrebin, its shadowy, humanoid figure exuding malice. Its glistening black eyes locked onto Hector, who stood at the center of the arena gripping his sword.
High above, Henry and Alistor watched from the gallery. Diana was was seated at the edge of her seat but was looking very tense.
"Pay attention, Hector," Alistor called down, his voice calm but firm. "This is a test of your instincts and training. Show us the results of your training."
Hector nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. His body was ready, strengthened by weeks of training and the enhancements of the first ritual. But his mind raced as the creatures began to encircle him. He tightened his grip on his sword, its weight grounding him.
"Don't panic," Henry added, his tone sharp. "Focus on what you've learned. Use their weaknesses against them."
The Red Caps were the first to strike. Two of them charged, their iron weapons aimed for Hector's legs and torso. Hector sidestepped the first, his reflexes sharp, and parried the second's blow with a metallic clang. The impact vibrated through his arms, but he held firm, countering with a horizontal slash that forced the creature back.
A third Red Cap darted in, swinging its blade at Hector's back. He spun, raising his sword just in time to block the strike. The clash of metal rang out, and Hector retaliated with a swift kick to the creature's stomach, sending it sprawling to the ground.
The remaining two Red Caps closed in, their grins twisted with malice. Hector's eyes darted between them, his mind racing. Stay calm. They're fast but fragile. You can outmaneuver them.
He feinted to the left, drawing one Red Cap forward, then pivoted to the right, bringing his sword down in a powerful arc. The blade sliced through the creature's shoulder, its shriek echoing in the arena. Before he could follow through, the other Red Cap lunged at him, its weapon aiming for his neck. Hector ducked, the blade narrowly missing, and drove his elbow into its face. The creature stumbled, and Hector finished it with a quick thrust to its chest.
The remaining three Red Caps regrouped, their movements more cautious now. Hector took a deep breath, his enhanced body recovering quickly from the exertion. But before he could press his advantage, an arrow whizzed past his ear, embedding itself in the dirt at his feet.
The Pukwudgies had joined the fray.
Hector's eyes darted to the small, grey-skinned creatures standing at a distance, their bows drawn. One loosed another arrow, and Hector deflected it with his sword. The Pukwudgies began to spread out, their movements calculated and precise. Meanwhile, the Red Caps seized the opportunity to attack again, forcing Hector to split his attention.
The next few moments were a blur of chaos. Hector dodged and parried as the Red Caps swarmed him, their weapons clashing against his blade. An arrow grazed his arm, the poisoned tip leaving a stinging burn. He gritted his teeth, feeling the magic within him begin to counteract the venom.
I can't keep this up, he thought, his breath still steady. I need to thin them out.
With a sudden burst of speed, Hector lunged at the nearest Red Cap, his sword cleaving through its torso. The creature collapsed in a heap, and Hector turned his focus to the Pukwudgies. He sprinted toward them, dodging another volley of arrows. One of the creatures hissed, drawing a small dagger as Hector closed the distance.
The fight was brutal. Hector deflected the dagger's thrust and countered with a slash that opened the Pukwudgie's chest. Its shriek was cut short as it fell to the ground. The second Pukwudgie loosed an arrow at point-blank range, but Hector twisted his body, the projectile grazing his ribs instead of piercing him. He retaliated with a diagonal strike, his blade cutting through the creature's weapon and into its shoulder.
The Pukwudgie staggered, and Hector finished it with a final, decisive blow.
Only the Pogrebin and the two remaining Red Caps remained. Hector's body screamed for rest, but he refused to give in. The Pogrebin moved closer, its dark eyes fixed on him. It emitted a low, guttural growl, and Hector felt a wave of unease wash over him. The creature's magic was subtle but insidious, its presence gnawing at the edges of his mind.
"Hector, focus!" Henry's whispered, more to himself. "Use your training!"
Hector, almost as if hearing his father, tightened his grip on his sword, his knuckles white. The Pogrebin lunged at him, its claws outstretched. Hector sidestepped, swinging his blade in a wide arc. The creature dodged, its movements unnaturally fluid.
Meanwhile, the Red Caps attacked from either side, forcing Hector to divide his attention. He blocked one strike with his sword and kicked the other attacker in the chest, sending it sprawling. The Pogrebin seized the moment to strike again, its claws raking across Hector's arm. He hissed in pain but didn't falter, driving his sword into the creature's side. The Pogrebin let out a chilling scream, but it wasn't finished.
Hector fought with everything he had, his body and mind pushed to their limits. He dodged, parried, and struck with precision born of desperation. One Red Cap fell, its throat slashed open, and the other soon followed, its skull crushed under Hector's boot.
Only the Pogrebin remained. The shadowy creature circled him, its movements predatory. Hector steadied his breathing, his enhanced senses sharpening. When the Pogrebin lunged, he was ready. He sidestepped and brought his sword down in a powerful arc, the blade cleaving through the creature's neck. It collapsed, lifeless.
Hector staggered, his chest heaving. Sweat dripped from his face, mixing with the blood and grime that covered his body. He glanced up at the gallery, where Alistor and Henry watched in silence.
The silence in the colosseum was palpable as the Pogrebin fell, its crumpled form lying motionless in the dirt. Hector, panting heavily, leaned on his sword for support, his body trembling from exertion. Blood trickled from scratches on his arms and a shallow gash across his leg, but the pain was already beginning to dull. His breath came in ragged bursts, but he could feel the effects of the first ritual working within him. The sharp stings in his wounds faded into a dull ache, and his energy, though drained, started to resurge in waves, as if an invisible force inside him were knitting him back together.
"You're holding up well, lad," Alistor called from the gallery, his voice calm but edged with expectation. "But this isn't over."
Hector straightened, the weight of his exhaustion momentarily pushed aside by Alistor's words. His fingers tightened around his sword as he looked up at his grandfather, who wore an expression of stern approval. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Henry nodding silently, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
The air suddenly shifted, thickening with an oppressive energy that sent a shiver down Hector's spine. He turned toward the far end of the colosseum, where a heavy iron gate creaked open with agonizing slowness. The sound reverberated through the arena, echoing off the stone walls like the growl of some ancient beast. Torchlight flickered against the darkness beyond the gate, casting long, jagged shadows on the ground.
Then it emerged.
The Bicorn stepped forward with deliberate, measured strides, its hooves striking the ground with an ominous rhythm. Each step was a thunderous proclamation of its dominance, its massive frame radiating power and menace. Its coat, blacker than the night sky, seemed to absorb the light around it, and its twin horns glistened like polished obsidian. Red eyes, fierce and unblinking, locked onto Hector, burning with a predatory hunger that sent a cold wave of adrenaline coursing through his veins.
"Sweet Helga!!" Hector whispered, his grip tightening on his sword. His body, still aching from the earlier fight, seemed to hum with renewed tension. The Bicorn was unlike any creature he had faced before—larger, faster, and far more intelligent. This was no mere predator; it was a force of nature, and it was fixated entirely on him.
"Steady yourself," Henry called, his voice cutting through the haze of Hector's nerves. "You've got the strength. Trust your training."
The Bicorn let out a low, rumbling snarl, its breath misting in the cool air. It pawed at the ground, kicking up clouds of dust as it lowered its head, its horns gleaming wickedly in the firelight. The tension in the colosseum was almost unbearable, every second stretching into an eternity as the creature sized up its opponent.
Then it charged.
The ground seemed to quake under the Bicorn's weight as it barreled toward Hector, its horns aimed directly at his chest. Hector's instincts took over, and he dove to the side, rolling to his feet just as the creature thundered past. The air around him was filled with the acrid scent of sweat and dirt, mingled with the metallic tang of blood from his earlier wounds.
The Bicorn skidded to a halt, its hooves carving deep grooves into the dirt. It turned with a snarl, its red eyes blazing with fury. Hector didn't have time to think; he moved purely on instinct, dodging another charge with a hair's breadth to spare. The creature's speed was astonishing, and its massive bulk made every movement a potential death sentence.
Hector swung his sword in a wide arc as the Bicorn passed, aiming for its flank. The blade connected, leaving a shallow gash in its thick hide. The creature roared in pain, rearing up on its hind legs before slamming back down with a force that rattled the ground beneath Hector's feet.
The brief moment of triumph was quickly overshadowed by a sharp, burning pain in Hector's leg. He glanced down to see a deep scratch left by the Bicorn's hoof, blood seeping through the torn fabric of his trousers. But even as the pain registered, he felt the first ritual's magic surging within him. The bleeding slowed, then stopped entirely, and the wound began to close, leaving behind only a faint, pink scar. Energy flooded his limbs, erasing the fatigue that had weighed him down moments ago.
I can do this, Hector thought, his confidence bolstered by the regenerative effects coursing through him. I'm stronger than this creature. I just need to outlast it.
The Bicorn charged again, its horns gleaming like twin spears in the torchlight. This time, Hector didn't retreat. He sidestepped at the last possible moment and slashed upward, his blade finding purchase in the creature's exposed underbelly. The Bicorn howled, staggering from the blow, but it was far from defeated.
"You're learning," Alistor observed, his voice carrying a hint of approval. "But don't get reckless."
Hector nodded, his mind racing as he circled the beast, looking for an opening. The Bicorn's movements were slower now, its injured leg dragging slightly with each step, but its rage had only intensified. It lashed out with its horns, the sharp tips cutting through the air with lethal precision. Hector ducked and rolled, narrowly avoiding a blow that would have impaled him.
The creature reared up again, its hooves striking down with the force of a sledgehammer. Hector darted to the side, his sword flashing as he aimed for its front leg. The blade bit deep, severing tendons and sending the Bicorn crashing to the ground with a pained bellow.
But even crippled, the creature was relentless. It thrashed wildly, its horns slicing through the air as it tried to fend off its attacker. Hector pressed his advantage, driving his blade into its side again and again, each strike fueled by the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Blood sprayed across the dirt, and the Bicorn's movements grew weaker with each passing moment.
Finally, Hector saw his opportunity. He climbed onto the creature's back, using its flailing movements to propel himself upward. His sword, now slick with blood, glinted in the firelight as he raised it high above his head.
"Finish it!" Henry roared, his voice filled with pride and urgency.
With a fierce cry, Hector brought the blade down, driving it into the base of the Bicorn's skull. The creature let out one last, guttural roar before collapsing, its body falling still. Hector staggered back, his chest heaving with exertion, and watched as the life faded from the Bicorn's eyes.
The colosseum was silent, save for the sound of Hector's ragged breathing. He stumbled to his knees, his sword slipping from his grasp. Every muscle in his body ached, but the first ritual's magic continued to work, soothing his pain and replenishing his strength bit by bit.
"Well done," Alistor said from the stands, his voice echoing through the arena. "You've earned your place today, boy."
Hector managed a faint smile before collapsing onto the bloodstained dirt, the exhaustion finally overtaking him.