Xander's heart pounded a deep resonance that matched the thundering roar of the crowd. The two Grimclaws prowled toward him, their sickly yellow eyes glowing with a predatory gleam.
He tightened his grip on his spear, the familiar weight providing a small form of comfort in this nightmarish scenario.
The arena's flat, dusty floor left him with nowhere to hide, no terrain to exploit.
It would be a battle of pure skill and willpower.
The first Grimclaw, smaller but quicker, lunged at him with surprising speed. Xander sidestepped, thrusting his spear forward, aiming for the creature's exposed flank.
The tip of the spear grazed the beast's scaly hide, drawing a thin line of blood but not enough to slow it down.
The Grimclaw twisted, its claws slashing at Xander's legs. He jumped back just in time, the claws narrowly missing his flesh.
The second Grimclaw, larger and more menacing, took advantage of the distraction.
It charged with a low growl, its massive body barreling toward Xander.
He had only a split second to react.
He spun on his heel, bringing his spear up in a defensive arc.
The beast's momentum carried it forward, and the spear's tip found purchase in its shoulder. The Grimclaw roared in pain, but its charge didn't stop.
The force of its body slammed into Xander, knocking him to the ground.
Dust filled the air as Xander rolled to his feet, his spear still in hand.
He barely had time to catch his breath before the smaller Grimclaw was upon him again. It leaped into the air, its claws aimed at his head.
Xander dropped to one knee, thrusting his spear upward. The spear pierced the Grimclaw's underbelly, and the beast let out a shrill scream.
It fell to the ground, writhing in agony, but still very much alive.
Xander didn't have time to finish it off.
The larger Grimclaw was already charging again, its eyes burning with fury. Xander braced himself, planting his feet firmly on the ground.
As the beast closed in, he sidestepped at the last possible moment, swinging his spear in a wide arc. The blade sliced through the Grimclaw's side, opening a deep gash.
The creature roared and spun around, its tail lashing out like a whip. The barbed tip caught Xander's arm, tearing through flesh and muscle.
He cried out in pain, stumbling back.
Ignoring the searing pain in his arm, Xander summoned all his strength. He thrust his spear forward with both hands, aiming for the larger Grimclaw's throat.
The beast tried to dodge, but its injured side slowed it down. The spear plunged deep into its neck, and the Grimclaw let out a choked roar. Blood sprayed from the wound, covering Xander in a warm, sticky mist.
The crowd roared louder, their bloodlust palpable. Xander knew he couldn't let his guard down. The smaller Grimclaw, though injured, was still a threat.
He pulled his spear from the larger beast's throat and turned just in time to see the smaller Grimclaw lunging at him once more.
This time, he was ready. He sidestepped the attack and brought his spear down in a powerful thrust, piercing the beast's skull. The Grimclaw let out a final, pitiful whimper before collapsing to the ground, dead.
Xander didn't have time to celebrate. The larger Grimclaw was still alive, though barely. It lay on the ground, its breaths coming in ragged, shallow gasps.
Xander approached cautiously, his spear at the ready. The beast's eyes followed him, filled with a mix of pain and defiance. With a swift, decisive motion, Xander drove his spear into the Grimclaw's heart. The creature let out one last shudder before going still.
Xander stood over the fallen beasts, his chest heaving with exertion. He pulled his spear from the Grimclaw's body, the blade stained with blood. He staggered back, his legs feeling like jelly. The crowd was a deafening roar of cheers and jeers.
He glanced around the arena, his mind racing. He needed to find a way out, a way to end this nightmare. But for now, he had survived. And to Xander, survival was all that mattered.
***
In the shadowy heights of the Colosseum, the manager reclined in a plush chair, overlooking the arena from his vantage point.
He turned to the guard who had brought in Xander, nodding with approval.
"That kid is good," he remarked, his voice a low murmur of satisfaction. "You did a good job getting him."
The guard, standing rigid at attention, replied with a hint of eagerness, "Thank you, sir. Should we put him in the battle royale tomorrow?"
The manager paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. He weighed the risks carefully before speaking. "It's a little risky, considering he's from the Order. But as long as we change his clothes before the battle tomorrow, it should be fine. See to it."
"Yes, sir," the guard responded promptly, bowing slightly before leaving the room. He moved swiftly through the dimly lit corridors, determined to secure Xander and prepare him for the trials ahead.
***
A man in plain garb sat among the crowd, his brows knit in a deep frown. Anger simmered within him as he watched the proceedings.
'How dare they,' he fumed silently. 'How dare they capture a priest of the Order. I might let it slide if it was just a member, but he's a priest of our lord.'
His gaze lingered on Xander, who stood in the arena garbed in the black robe that marked his sacred office. With one last look, the man rose and made his way out, determined to inform the Order of the colosseum's grievous offense against their great lord.
***
Xander stood at the center of the arena, the once hostile crowd now cheering him on. Where before they hurled insults, now they roared with approval. His summoned weapon vanished against his will, the draining of his strength a clear signal.
Understanding what this meant, Xander turned to see the guard who had thrown him into the arena waiting with a smug grin. The guard waved him over, and Xander, weary and reluctant, began the walk towards him.
Entering the room, the guard's demeanor shifted to one of pride. "You did a very good job. I'm proud to have been the one to bring you in," he said, his tone dripping with misplaced pride.
Xander, unable to reconcile this man's pride in his capture and forced participation in the brutal battle, simply frowned his thoughts a blend of confusion and resentment.
"Ahh, don't give me that look," the guard smirked, tossing a bundle of clothes at Xander.
"I've got good news for you, but first, put these on. Can't have you parading around in that robe now, can we?" Xander took the roughspun clothes and leather armor, his fingers brushing against the worn material.
He had no choice but to change right there under the guard's watchful eyes, the indignity burning his cheeks.
Once he was dressed, the guard handed him his spatial ring. "You can put your robe in this ring," he said, his tone almost congenial. "And I'll tell you the good news."
Xander slid the robe into the ring, the familiar weight settling uneasily in his palm. The guard's smile widened. "Tomorrow, you'll be in a battle royale. Survive, and you're one step closer to freedom. A few more battles, and you're free. I promise, win your freedom, and I'll even return your spatial ring to you." He pocketed the ring, his eyes gleaming with a knowing look.
The guard knew the ring was bound to Xander, usable only by him unless he willingly unbound it or met his end. This was a promise to make Xander feel a sense of hope like things weren't as bad as they seemed.
The words hung heavy between them, a thin veil over the reality that Xander's freedom was still far from certain.
"Okay, enough of this. Let's go," the guard barked, seizing Xander's arm with a rough grip. He yanked him along the dim corridor, the heavy boots echoing ominously off the stone walls.
With a heave, the guard shoved Xander into his cell, the iron door slamming shut behind him. The lock clicked into place, sealing him in once more. The guard's footsteps faded into the distance, leaving Xander alone in the dim light.
He lay there for a moment, gathering his wits. From the shadows, a voice whispered, "You survived. That's good."