Percival strips the fallen gladiators, their discarded garments providing makeshift bandages for his bleeding shoulder.
He moves with the urgency of a man hunted, his every action calculated and efficient, all the while acutely aware of the scrutiny of the eyes fixed upon him from the balcony where the Lords of Pyrrhus observe, a tableau of power and judgement.
The crowd goes crazy with blood spilled battle, evidence of interesting games, evidence of blood relieved lives.
Kane has never heard cheers like this before, he rubs the chest of his armour which for most part, is now opened due to the bear's ferocious attack, leaving a sting underneath as torn skin drips blood.
"I will live" he says to himself as fingertip explores the crimson testament.
"Is it over?" Kane inquires only to be answered by the narrator's somber words, "Hope crumbles over the brave warriors as the wild beasts fall to their blade and courage…" he speaks.
"Here we go again", Percival says, they both look around to see their numbers.
They came into the arena with thirty, but beasts and arrows see them come to twelve.
"…but then they face enemies much like themselves and yet nothing like them at all" the narrator says and the gates to the north open.
Low, guttural growls emanate from the shadowy recesses beyond the gates, followed by the ominous scrape of metal against stone. In sudden shock, an abrupt silence descends.
Stillness, all about the colosseum in great expectation.
Kane and the eleven gladiators stand ready; like a swarm, horrid humanoid creatures charge out in great numbers.
Skin, pale and dark with horns sticking out some of their heads and some in other places.
Intricate lines of molten cyan is carved across the skin of a few, giving them different looks and forms but ultimately they shared the same race, demons.
Kane has only heard of them from stories told by his gladiator brethren, but seeing one in person unexpectedly underwhelms him as features show some disappointment.
"Fuck, it's demons" a gladiator exclaims, fear gripping him by the balls as he drops sword and runs in the opposite direction, "Stand, all of you and fight, and we may yet face peril. But run and we shall surely die," Percival says, taking charge of the group.
Kane longed to experience the magical creatures of this world but all he has come to know is the magic of the whip and the monsters behind them.
Mind, envisioning the longer days ahead in captivity begins to get to him.
Reasons for which he has found himself in this situation tears at his mind like a vulture, a heat in his chest is ignited along bitter taste of regrets vaguely remembered in past life.
Even with new memories and new feelings, old feelings cringed onto new heart and spirit.
Mind calms as occasion comes, ears go deaf to the wordings of the world and flesh brings on sense to the moment before him as sweat drips down the bridge of his nose.
In an unexpected move, one driven by madness or instinct, it cannot be told. The gladiators gaze fixates on him as Kane, with audacious courage, confronts the monstrous onslaught.
Select as the tomb, his steel flashes with the speed of a tempest, slicing and dissecting.
Heart pumping new blood while chest bleeds out old one. An energy like never before flows within him and with strategy, his mind connects all that he has learnt and experienced and projects them in his graceful dance of combat.
A feeling harnessed only in the heat of battle.
The gladiators raise their voices and their steel, charged with renewed spirits, they lunge forward into the horde of demons. Blade and spear tear flesh, making the battle seem easy for the gladiators until the air soon becomes tainted with foul smells from the demon corpses.
Inhaled, men feel their limbs grow weak and motion becomes slow. Demons take advantage, piercing claws and teeth into skin of poisoned gladiators.
Percival's movement is slowed but he does not lose aggression, where hands grow weak, he uses teeth and claws to fight. Head bloodied, as he bashes his forehead against a demons', fear flee from him as he tears out the throat of another with his claws.
He takes breath with hands on knees, a short-lived rest, as demons approach and tired limbs return to battle.
The Lords of Pyrrhus watch from their high station, drinking and eating fruits whilst men bleed and die in the arena.
Barabas almost leaps from his chair when his eyes see Kane charge first into the horde of demons while a smile appears across Memnuh's face, "Ah, this is why I said he is inexperienced and not ready," Felix says, fruit dripping from the side of his lips.
"The corpses of the demons release deadly toxins to living flesh, knowledge he clearly lacks" he spurts out while Barabas clutches the arm rest of his chair.
Frieda watches with little interest, no string of guilt traced to the lady of Grimstone as she sips wine and rolls eyes in bored spectacle.
"So, you get your wish husband. The boy will die and I will pick another" Frieda says, earning a glare from Memnuh. Veins carved across his head by visible emotions he cares not to hide.
She folds her hands and turn away from him, "So I lose a treasure on the matters of matrimonial squabble" Barabas says under his breath, brows furrowed and jaw clenched.
"The boy with white hair and the beastman, Percival. They impress," Ghassan says, hands stroking his smooth beards.
They watch as Kane hacks down the demons with swift swings of blade and a graceful whirlwind of divergent motions, feinting and slicing through the demons like knife through butter.
They surround the gladiators, using numbers to crumble them as their corpses pile and men grow weary.
"The Beastman and some of Demi-humans origins have stronger resistance to the poison of demon corpses but your boy, he seems unaffected by the affliction.
See the way he moves, a natural potential in combat. Is he human?" Ghassan rubs his chin as Kane becomes of interest, "He is and he will die in this arena" Memnuh denies Barabas his speech and answers in his stead, "You look determined Memnuh, but he seems to have the gods on his side".
Kane beheads another demon, the swift motion a jarring punctuation to the chaos.
A chilling silence descends as the demonic horde abruptly halts their pursuit. They circle him now, a malevolent tide isolating him from the other gladiators.
His blood boils, a fiery torrent within, while heavy, laboured breaths rattle in his chest.
Hands weary from carrying shield and blade, days' heat scorches the sweat off his skin. The demons stare, crimson orbs appear on their chest and in a savage rampage they begin to devour one another in his presence.
The crowd watches, with crazed amusement, cheers go silent and murmurs begin to fill the arena; "What is that?" Ghassan looks with curiosity on his face.
The Lords of Pyrrhus watch with brows raised and ass on the edge of their sits, "This is unexpected. The demons are procreating" Felix gives knowledge to their curious mind, "That's how they fuck? By eating each other" Frieda says with face squeezed and belly churned, "Yes, my lady".
Kane recoils, desperate for an avenue of escape from this horrid spectacle. Yet, escape proves elusive. Their savagery culminates in a macabre display as one demon, amidst the dwindling survivors, stands transfigured.
The orb embedded in his chest erupts in a malevolent glow, unleashing tendrils of cyan flesh that impale him, engulfing his form until it is entirely consumed.
The crowd can hear the crackle of broken bones and the screams of one in pain underneath the red cocoon in the arena.
Kane retreats to rejoin the cadre of gladiators, now a cohort of eight, as their collective gaze stay on the cocoon.
With a dramatic flourish, the silken prison ruptures, unleashing upon the area a grotesque, hitherto unseen manifestation of demonic evil.
Hair, long and white like snow, skin as grey as ash and eyes as red as blood.
A solitary horn, a twisted flourish atop its brutish frame, crowns the demons head.
Exhaling a noxious cloud, it executes a swift, unseen manoeuvre, its fist vanishing into a gladiator's abdomen.
A gruesome reunion follows, blood and guts cascading onto the sand, a macabre tableau. The beast roars in triumph and the crowd, insatiable; e, erupts in renewed fervour.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck" Kane cusses as the demon lunges, to everyone's shock, he parries the creature's savage blow with his shield, while a fellow gladiator delivers a vicious kick tot its chest.
The remaining demons descend upon them in a frenzied assault, but their newfound ally proves an unstoppable and double-edged force, killing friends and foe alike.
Arcing tendrils of flames across the arena, separating the gladiators so it may pick them apart, "It is separating us" Kane notices and gives chase while the demon charges toward a distracted gladiator.
Waving his axe and mounting his shield, he faces incoming demons overpowering them at the cost of his endurance.
The new demon grabs the unsuspecting gladiator by the neck, with flames around its wrist and sharp edged fingers, he separates the man from his waist.
Cleanly, blood spills into the ground as it raises the top half of its victim to the crowds' pleasure.
It points its hand towards the stands, brewing fire and lightning to deliver to the crowd.
But Kane, an appearance from beneath like a shadow, slices of the demon's hand and with a spin, lands a devastating kick to the demon's head.
Another gladiator sees opportunity and lunges blade forward, a good strike to its back, and in a spin the demon slaps the gladiator with hand encased in flames.
The gladiator's jaw falls off, burnt and torn in a single blow.
With hand coated in purple lightning, the demon plunges his arm into the gladiator's chest. The crowd approves, but Kane is not amused.
Mind focused like a predator watching its prey, Kane swings at the demon but it catches the blade in one hand.
Eyes meet, its chest rise in an incandescent motion, heralding a blast that threatens to vaporise him.
With a swift, decisive motion, he parries the attack, the edge of his shield impacting the demon's skull with bone-jarring force.
Percival and two more join in his fight as they leave the rest of the demons on the floor. Trails of demon corpses lie in the arena, smells spread through bodies and pulls one away from life.
The demon takes on attacks, slash upon slash as flesh responds in crimson lipids.
One hand alone, it swings punches and kicks, spewing fire and lightning at every direction, "It's in a frenzy and has lost mind, this is our chance" Percival shouts to inspire hope.
With a fruitful plunge of sword in chest, one of the men stand before the demon and Kane slices the back of its feet.
The demon falls on one knee, it roars as the gladiator swings for its head only to be met with fire, extended from demon's eyes, he burns and screams.
The three gladiators slash at the demon, taking turns to dash in and dash out, leaving marks of their blade on its skin. The demon siezes Kane and vanishes in an instant.
Everyone stands on their toes, Memnuh and Barabas, watching with curious gaze at the event.
Reappearing in the sky, man and demon battle, crashing to the middle of the arena, spilled insides of demon's brain and black guts paint Kane as he stands victor to a story that will told by poets and musicians.
"Live, live, live" the crowd sings much to Barabas' delight while Memnuh, squeeze fists.
Ghassan gives a thumbs up and the crowd rejoice, the hearts of the survivors rest easy as they accept their lives and victory.