The Colosseum of Themyscira
The Colosseum of Themyscira stood as a testament to the Amazonian legacy—a grand, ancient structure that had witnessed centuries of battles, victories, and losses. Today, it buzzed with an electricity that pulsed through the very air, sending shivers down the spines of even the most seasoned warriors. Every Amazon present knew that this was no ordinary combat trial. A boy—Kal-El of the outside world, was about to face one of their greatest champions.
From her high seat, Queen Hippolyta surveyed the field with regal authority. Her gaze was as sharp as the weapons her warriors carried. She didn't show it, but she was intrigued by the boy who stood at the center of the Colosseum. Kal-El was unlike any man she had ever encountered—possibly capable of immense destruction, yet holding back, as if fearful of his own strength. But here, on Themyscira, restraint could be seen as weakness.
"Let the trial of combat begin!" Hippolyta's voice boomed like the crack of Zeus' lightning, silencing the murmurs of the gathered Amazons. "Today, Kal-El of man's world shall face Philippus, General of the Amazons."
The moment her decree ended, a wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd. Eyes widened. Philippus was no ordinary warrior. She had fought in wars before the modern world was even a thought, her skills honed to perfection over centuries. No Amazon doubted her ability to break even the fiercest foe. And now, she stood across from Kal-El—an alien, a man—who had somehow earned the respect of their queen.
Clark stood tall in the arena, but inside, he felt the weight of their expectations crushing down on him. He didn't belong here, not really. Themyscira was a world of warriors, of gods, of strength and purity, far removed from the chaos and corruption of man's world. Yet, here he was, facing their fiercest champion, and even now, he could feel the eyes of the crowd on him like the heat of a relentless sun.
Philippus stepped forward, her armor catching the light of the high sun, making her appear more than a warrior—she was a force of nature. Her sword, tempered by ancient fires, gleamed as she unsheathed it, the sharp edge promising no mercy. Her every step was deliberate, her muscles coiled, ready to strike at a moment's notice. This wasn't just a test for Kal-El; this was a statement. She was going to show him what it meant to face an Amazon.
"I sense you've been holding back, Kal-El," Hippolyta's voice rang out again, but this time it was softer, more pointed. Her eyes narrowed, catching his attention. "In this trial, restraint will not serve you. Show us your true abilities. We demand nothing less."
Clark could feel the truth in her words, but revealing his full strength could be dangerous. He wasn't just facing a powerful opponent; he was battling his own limits. 'How much can I hold back before it costs me the fight?' He thought about the weight of his fists, the pressure he had to constantly monitor so he wouldn't crush anything—or anyone—around him. Today, though, that wouldn't be enough. Philippus would demand every ounce of skill he had so he can maintain his strength.
He glanced up to the royal stands, catching sight of Diana. Her eyes were locked on him, filled with curiosity and intensity. She had already seen what he was capable of in the race, but this was different. This was battle. Diana had been born into combat, had trained under Philippus herself, and knew better than anyone what the general could do. But she was also aware of Clark's potential, the same potential that saved one of their own. Diana's fingers tightened slightly around the armrest of her seat, her heart thrumming in her chest. 'What will he do now?'
Clark breathed in deeply, trying to center himself. He thought about the battles he had endured—not just as a vigilante but in the countless simulations his mind had gone through, preparing him for moments like this. Philippus was more than a formidable opponent—she was a warrior who had fought gods, her blade wielded with the precision of someone who knew how to kill swiftly, efficiently. 'But this isn't about killing,' Clark reminded himself. 'It's about proving myself.'
His muscles tensed, his senses sharpening as Philippus approached, the earth beneath her feet seemingly trembling with the force of her presence. She held her sword with both hands, a predatory glint in her eyes, and for a second, Clark saw the warrior in her—centuries of experience, skill honed to perfection, her movements like a predator stalking prey. She would show no mercy, but neither would he allow himself to falter.
"Do not mistake me for the others you have faced," Philippus said, her voice like steel wrapped in velvet. "I will fight you with everything I have."
Clark's eyes met hers. "I understand," he replied, his voice low but steady, his hands balling into fists, ready to face whatever came next. He shifted his stance slightly, bringing himself into the familiar position of a fighter, but knowing all too well he had to be precise, controlled.
Philippus didn't wait. The moment the acknowledgment passed, she exploded into motion. Clark barely had time to react as she closed the distance with terrifying speed, her blade slicing through the air toward him. Clark sidestepped, his Kryptonian reflexes kicking in, but even with his enhanced speed, Philippus was relentless. She pivoted with a grace that belied her size, her sword spinning back toward him in a deadly arc. The force of her strike sent a shockwave through the air, and when Clark raised his arm to block it with his iron knuckle, the impact felt like an explosion.
'She's not holding back,' Clark realized instantly, his arm buzzing from the sheer force behind her strike. Philippus pressed the advantage, her sword whirling in quick, devastating strikes. Clark parried each one, but every block sent tremors up his arms. She was testing him, pushing him to see how much he could take. But he knew this wasn't the full force of her power yet. She was waiting, calculating.
From the stands, Diana watched, her breath held. She had never seen Philippus fight like this—relentless, ruthless, every movement designed to disarm or destroy. Clark was managing to block, but only barely. Diana's chest tightened as she saw Philippus shift her stance, preparing for something even more dangerous.
Philippus lunged forward again, but this time she feinted left, then slashed right. Clark's iron knuckle clanged against her sword, but the force of it sent him stumbling back a step. She was stronger than any human he had ever faced, her combat prowess unlike anything he had encountered in Gotham. But this wasn't Gotham.
With a quick inhale, Clark steadied himself. He couldn't rely on his strength alone; he needed strategy. Philippus swung again, but this time, Clark didn't just block—he shifted his weight, deflecting her blow and stepping inside her guard. With a quick movement, he struck out with his elbow, aiming for her midsection. Philippus grunted as the blow connected, but it didn't slow her down. Instead, she twisted with the hit, using the momentum to bring her sword around in a brutal downward slash aimed at Clark's shoulder.
Clark dropped to one knee, the blade missing him by inches, but as he stood, Philippus was already spinning around for another attack. She was relentless, her movements almost impossible to predict, and Clark knew he couldn't afford to keep holding back. Not if he wanted to survive this fight.
As Philippus swung her sword once more, Clark raised his arm to meet it, and the clash of metal on metal reverberated through the Colosseum.
CLANG!!
The Amazons watching gasped, their eyes wide with shock and disbelief.
CLANG!! CLANG!! CLANG!!
The ringing of metal against metal echoed through the Colosseum, and for a brief moment, time seemed to slow. Clark's muscles burned with the effort of deflecting Philippus's strikes, the force of them resonating up his arm and into his chest. He could see the fierce determination in her eyes, but what struck him most was the calculated precision behind every swing. Philippus wasn't just swinging wildly; she was probing his defenses, waiting for the right moment to strike a lethal blow.
Clark shifted his stance, grounding himself. He couldn't let her dictate the pace. He needed to take control of the fight, but doing so without unleashing his full strength was a razor's edge he had to balance on. One wrong move, and he could crush her or lose everything.
Philippus, sensing his hesitation, pressed the advantage. She moved with the fluid grace of a predator, her sword an extension of her body, slashing through the air in sharp, decisive arcs. Clark blocked again, the iron knuckle on his hand meeting her blade with a resounding clash. The vibrations coursed through him, but he gritted his teeth and pushed back, forcing her to take a step away.
The crowd was deathly silent now, the Amazons watching in rapt attention, their breaths collectively held as they witnessed what few had ever seen: a man standing toe-to-toe with their greatest warrior. And yet, Clark knew it was taking every ounce of his control to not tip the scale too far in either direction.
From the royal stands, Queen Hippolyta observed, her gaze sharp and unblinking. This was no ordinary trial, and she could see the conflict in Kal-El's movements. He fought with honor, yes, but also with restraint—a dangerous restraint that, if not managed properly, could cost him dearly.
But it was Diana's gaze that burned the hottest. Her heart pounded as she watched the two warriors clash. She could see that Clark was holding back, not fully committing to his attacks, while Philippus—her mentor, the warrior she had aspired to match—was relentless. Diana knew how dangerous that was. She knew Philippus wouldn't give him a second chance if he made a mistake. And Kal-El was treading dangerously close to the edge.
Philippus lunged again, her blade a blur of silver as it sliced toward Clark's side. This time, instead of stepping back, Clark shifted forward. His footwork was quick, smooth, honed from years of practice in countless dream simulations. He sidestepped the strike and used Philippus's momentum against her, bringing his elbow up to strike at her unguarded side.
Philippus reacted instantly, twisting her body in mid-motion. She turned the blow into a spin, her sword whirling with her, the blade catching the sunlight as it arced upward toward Clark's neck.
Clark's instincts took over, and in a heartbeat, he ducked beneath the strike, rolling forward and coming up behind her. The crowd gasped, a wave of awe rippling through the Amazons as they watched the man from the outside world move with the grace of a seasoned warrior.
Philippus didn't hesitate. She spun to face him, her eyes narrowed, her jaw set. She charged, her sword swinging in a deadly vertical slash meant to split him in two. Clark barely had time to react. He stepped into the blow, raising his iron-clad fist to meet it. The impact was like a thunderclap, the force sending a shockwave through the arena.
Clark grunted, feeling the raw strength of Philippus behind the strike. She was giving him everything she had, not holding back in the slightest, and he could feel his own restraint straining under the weight of her assault. His mind raced, calculating his next move. He needed to end this, but he couldn't overpower her. Not like this.
Philippus's sword came down again, and this time, Clark sidestepped, spinning on his heel and delivering a sharp backhand with his iron knuckle. The blow connected with Philippus's sword arm, sending a jolt through her body. She staggered back, her sword dropping slightly, but her eyes never left him. There was no pain in her gaze—only the cold, calculating mind of a warrior assessing her opponent.
The two circled each other, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a blade. Clark could feel the weight of his breath, the beads of sweat forming on his brow. Philippus was formidable, but his Kryptonian endurance gave him an edge. He could see her muscles beginning to tire, the subtle changes in her stance as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. She was feeling the effects of their battle, but she wouldn't show weakness. Not yet.
"Is this all you've got?" Philippus taunted, her voice low and steady, but there was a fire in her eyes—a challenge. She was testing him, pushing him to see if he would give in to his strength.
Clark shook his head, taking a deep breath. "No," he replied calmly, his voice even. "But I'm not here to break you. I'm here to prove myself."
Philippus smirked, but there was no mirth in it. "Prove yourself, then. Show me what you are truly capable of."
She charged again, her sword raised high, but this time, Clark was ready. He had been holding back, gauging her strength, her speed, her tactics. Now, he could see the openings in her defense, the split-second moments where he could strike without causing her serious harm.
As Philippus swung her sword, Clark ducked low, rolling under her strike and coming up on the other side. He pivoted on his heel, his movements smooth, controlled, and brought his fist up in a sharp jab aimed at her midsection. The iron knuckle connected, and Philippus grunted, the force of the blow staggering her. But Clark didn't follow through with the full force he was capable of. He pulled the punch, just enough to make her feel the impact without breaking anything.
Philippus recovered quickly, spinning on her heel and slashing at him again, but Clark was faster. He parried the strike, his iron knuckle catching the blade with a sharp clang. He pushed forward, stepping inside her guard, and delivered a quick, precise strike to her wrist. The sword flew from her hand, clattering to the ground a few feet away.
The crowd gasped as Philippus stood there, unarmed but unbowed. She stared at Clark, her chest rising and falling with each breath, but her eyes were filled with something he hadn't expected—respect.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The tension in the air was palpable, the silence deafening. Then, slowly, Philippus stepped back, lowering her gaze in acknowledgment of his victory.
"You fight with honor, Kal-El," she said, her voice low but filled with respect. "You could have ended this, but you didn't."
Clark nodded, his breathing steady now. "I wasn't here to win by brute force. I wanted to prove that I could stand among you as an equal."
Philippus raised her head, her gaze meeting his. "You have proven that and more."
WOAH!!
The Colosseum roared with approval, the sound of Amazonian warriors celebrating the battle they had just witnessed. Clark stood, his body still buzzing from the adrenaline of the fight, but he felt a sense of calm wash over him. He had faced Philippus, one of the fiercest warriors in all of Themyscira, and not only survived but earned her respect. It was no small feat. But the weight of the next trial lingered in his mind. He knew the hardest part was yet to come.
From her high throne, Queen Hippolyta rose, her regal presence silencing the crowd with a mere gesture. The sun cast a halo around her golden armor, making her appear almost otherworldly—every bit the ruler of a land forged by gods and legends.
"Kal-El of man's world," she began, her voice carrying through the Colosseum like a clarion call. There was no anger or disappointment in her tone, only a sense of gravitas that marked the conclusion of something significant. "You have passed two of the three trials. You have demonstrated strength, honor, and a restraint that few possess. Among men, you are extraordinary."
The crowd quieted further, hanging on every word. Clark stood tall, his gaze unwavering.
Hippolyta descended from her throne, her golden sandals clicking softly against the stone steps as she approached him. Each step was graceful, filled with the weight of centuries of Amazonian tradition. When she stood before him, she did not hesitate, her eyes searching his.
"You have faced Philippus, the General of the Amazons, with dignity and courage. You have earned our respect." She paused, allowing the weight of her words to settle before continuing. "But your final trial lies ahead, Kal-El. The trial that will decide whether you are worthy of the title of 'Great Companion'—a title that no man has ever earned."
Clark nodded, his eyes locked on hers. "I'm ready, Your Majesty."
Hippolyta's expression softened, but only slightly. "Tomorrow, at dawn, you will journey to the Forbidden Island, a place that even we Amazons dare not tread lightly." The air seemed to grow colder at the mention of the island, and the crowd shifted uneasily. "There, you must face and defeat the creature that dwells within. A beast of immense power, whose wrath has tormented our people for centuries."
Clark's mind raced, his heart steady but his thoughts tinged with uncertainty. A creature of immense power... He had faced many foes before, both on Earth and in the dream simulations that tested him beyond normal limits. But something about the way Hippolyta spoke gave him pause. This wasn't just about defeating a monster—it was about surviving the unknown.
Hippolyta's eyes remained steady, though there was something else behind them—something that almost felt like concern. "The Forbidden Island is not like any other place. It is a realm where the rules of nature bend, where danger lurks in every shadow. You will not only be tested in strength but in will and endurance."
Clark felt the weight of her words. Will and endurance. He had been tested in both countless times, but he had also seen how easily even the strongest could break under pressure. Yet, he nodded. "I understand."
"The creature that guards the island has claimed the lives of many," Hippolyta continued, her voice like steel. "It is relentless, powerful, and intelligent. You must defeat it, and only then will you earn the title of Great Companion of Themyscira, and be allowed to come and go from our lands freely. But be warned—this trial is not just about physical strength. It is about your spirit, your heart."
Clark's jaw tightened, his resolve solidifying. "I won't fail."
Before he could speak further, a familiar voice rang out from the stands.
"I volunteer to be one of the guides," Diana's voice cut through the silence like a bright sword.
The crowd gasped, and all eyes turned to the young princess. Diana stood tall, her posture reflecting a confidence and determination far beyond her years. She met her mother's gaze without hesitation, her chin tilted up in defiance of any potential objection.
Hippolyta's brow furrowed, and for a moment, her stern exterior faltered, replaced by a mother's concern. "Diana, this is no ordinary mission. You know the dangers of the Forbidden Island. I cannot allow you to put yourself in such risk."
Diana's eyes did not waver. "Mother, I believe in Kal-El. I have seen his strength, his heart. I want to be there to guide him, to help him. I am not a child any longer."
Clark turned to face her, a mix of admiration and concern on his face. He knew what it meant for Diana to volunteer—it wasn't just about proving herself. She genuinely believed in him. But the Forbidden Island wasn't a place to take lightly, even for the daughter of Hippolyta.
The Queen hesitated for a long moment, her eyes narrowing as she considered her daughter's plea. The crowd held its collective breath, waiting for the queen's decision. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Very well, Diana. You may join the group of guides, but you must follow the orders of the senior warriors."
Diana's eyes brightened, and she bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment. "I will, Mother."
Clark looked over at Diana, their eyes meeting. He offered her a small nod of gratitude. She smiled back, her confidence unshaken. She had seen him fight, seen his heart in action. She had faith in him—and now, she would be there to ensure he succeeded.
Hippolyta turned back to Clark, her voice once again firm and royal. "Rest tonight, Kal-El. At dawn, you will begin your journey to the Forbidden Island. May the gods watch over you."
Clark bowed deeply, his mind already focused on what lay ahead. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
The Queen gave a final nod before signaling the end of the proceedings. The Amazons began to disperse, their hushed voices filled with speculation about the final trial and what dangers awaited on the Forbidden Island.
As he left the Colosseum, Diana fell into step beside him, her energy palpable. "Tomorrow will be the greatest adventure," she said, her voice filled with both eagerness and a sense of duty. "The Forbidden Island… it's a place of legends. No one's ever defeated the creature. But I believe you can."
Clark smiled at her, his voice soft but filled with determination. "I'll do my best, Diana. And I'm glad you'll be there."
Diana's heart swelled with pride. She had seen Kal-El overcome two trials already, and now, she would witness his final test—a test that would determine his fate among the Amazons.
The sun began to set over Themyscira, casting long shadows across the land as preparations for the journey to the Forbidden Island began.
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