Chapter 12- The Arena of Blood and Glory
The tournament grounds were alive with a fire that could only come from warriors on the brink of battle. The smell of sweat, blood, and the anticipation of combat filled the air, a symphony of chaos and hunger for power. Helios, Bow, and Prometheus stood side by side, their eyes scanning the remaining fighters. Only 100 remained, each one a monster in their own right, all with their own reasons for being here. But none of them carried the same conviction as Helios.
Helios clenched his fists, staring at his own bloodstained hand, still feeling the warmth of the woman he had impaled. He had killed before, he had massacred before—but this was different. She had thanked him. Thanked him for treating her as an equal.
No hesitation. No regret. This is the path I've chosen.
"Alright, folks! The first stage is over! But now, we separate the killers from the legends!" The announcer's voice echoed across the massive arena. The audience erupted into cheers, the bloodlust in their voices undeniable.
The second round was brutal. Fights were no longer about technique alone. This was survival. The ring was no longer a simple battlefield—it was a graveyard waiting to be filled. Warriors who had once stood tall now lay in pieces, their weapons shattered, their bodies torn apart.
Prometheus was up first again. His opponent, a giant clad in obsidian armor, wielding two spiked maces, roared like a beast. But Prometheus was not fazed. He danced through the air like a storm, his twin swords cutting through flesh and steel alike. Blood sprayed in arcs, and within moments, the giant collapsed, his body diced into unrecognizable chunks. Prometheus stood over the remains, breathing heavily.
Bow's fight was up next. His opponent was a beastman, half-wolf, half-man, standing at eight feet tall with claws capable of tearing steel apart. The beast lunged, but Bow only smirked. A single step forward. A fist pulled back. A casual swing—
BOOM.
The beastman exploded into a red mist. The crowd was silent for a moment before erupting in a mixture of cheers and terror. Bow wiped blood from his face, sighing. "Too easy."
Then came Helios.
He stood across from a monstrous man wielding a scythe made from dragon bone. A former executioner, a murderer of over a thousand men. Helios exhaled slowly, lowering himself into a stance. The crowd watched in anticipation. The executioner swung his scythe, the very air around it splitting.
Helios vanished.
A single step. A blur.
The executioner gasped. Helios was behind him, hand dripping with blood.
"I see," Helios muttered. "Not even worth a second strike."
The executioner's body split apart before he could scream, his torso cleaved in two by Helios' bare hand. The blood painted the ground in deep crimson as Helios walked away, his back to the corpse.
Bow and Prometheus watched in silence.
"You see what I mean?" Bow muttered. "He's not human."
Prometheus narrowed his eyes. "No. He's something else."
The second stage was over. Only 50 remained. The true battle was about to begin.
And Helios?
He was just getting started.
The coliseum still with roaring spectators as Helios, Bow, and Prometheus walked off the tournament grounds, they had a moment to breathe.
They made their way through the bustling streets of the Island of Champions, the city alive with merchants selling weapons, armor, and elixirs, all capitalizing on the tournament's chaos. The three warriors eventually found a large, rowdy tavern filled with drunken fighters celebrating their victories or drowning their losses. They took a seat at a corner table, ordering a feast of roasted meats, fresh bread, and barrels of ale—though Helios, being only 15, stuck to water.
As they ate, Bow leaned back with a smirk. "You know, Helios, you're kinda insane, man. You don't hesitate at all. You fight like a demon."
Helios took a bite of his food, his golden eyes staring ahead. "I fight to win. That's all there is to it."
Prometheus chuckled. "Yeah, we got that part. But damn, you don't even crack a smile. You're always serious, always talking about war, revenge, and rebuilding the world. Do you even know how to have fun?"
Bow laughed, nearly choking on his drink. "Yeah! Have you ever even… I don't know, done something stupid for the hell of it?"
Helios raised an eyebrow. "Why would I waste my time on something meaningless?"
Bow groaned, slamming his mug down. "Bro. That's exactly the problem. You're 15, man. You just turned the arena into a massacre, and I respect the hell outta that, but you gotta learn to loosen up. If you keep going at this pace, you're gonna burn yourself out before you even reach the gods you wanna kill."
Prometheus nodded. "He's got a point. Strength isn't just about fighting. It's about balance. If all you ever do is rage and fight, you'll become a monster."
Helios was silent for a moment. He clenched his fist. "I don't have time to waste. If I let myself slow down—"
Bow interrupted, waving a hand. "Nah, nah, nah. No excuses. Here's the deal—we make it through this tournament, and then, we take a day off. No fighting, no training, no plotting to kill gods. Just a day to actually enjoy life. Deal?"
Helios hesitated. He had never thought about taking a break. But as he looked at Bow and Prometheus, two warriors who had lived longer and had their own pasts, he realized they weren't just saying this to mess with him. They meant it.
"…Fine. One day."
Bow grinned. "That's the spirit! But first, let's survive this damn tournament."
They raised their glasses, a moment of camaraderie before the bloodshed resumed.