Lumen rubbed his leg. It hurt severely, stinging and throbbing. He had been injured by Nemarion Lion in a duel for his life. The elf had barely left the arena alive. His leg was torn open, a nasty gash stuck on his body, only hidden away by his bandage.
He couldn't remember how long he had been here. He wasn't fit for this life, he knew that, but he was a servant of the coliseum. In reality, he was just another slave for the merchant lord who owned it and a source of entertainment for the crowd. Everything around him was colorless, thick with sweat, rust, dirt, and soot. He often dreamt of flower fields and the cute nymphs he used to coil with, a distant memory from an age long past.
Lumen chomped on the stale bread in silence. His fingers trembled as he dipped it into the cup of water he had gotten, using it to soften his parched throat. Every bite was a cruel reminder that he was still kicking and that one of these days, maybe even today, he would get killed. He was trapped here. It had been years. His family, their faces, he couldn't remember them. His ribs ached as well.
The door to his room opened, or rather, his cell. It was the manager, a subordinate of the lord of the coliseum. He came in with grinning teeth and jingling coin purses and threw them at him, it was probably copper coins not gold. Tthe magic control rod was hidden behind his back. One wrong move, and he would send Lumen into an electric coma.
"Oh, Lumen, you frail thing, your match is starting in a few moments. What are you doing, eating at an hour like this?"
It was my first and only meal, you devil.
The copper coins wouldn't get him much, as he had to buy his own medicine. That was how it was here. A survival game.
"B-but Mister Gaius, I just came from the battlefield. I…I'm hurt."
He snapped his fingers. "Chop, chop, elfy, or someone will be passed around the lower-ranked gladiator quarters tonight. I know how they look you, these starved animals." He giggled ominously, rubbing his hands together.
His long nose was in reach. It would only take a hop and a kick, and he could slit his throat with his dagger.
Lumen tightened the linen around his legs and swallowed what remained of the stale bread. The humans—he hated them. He hated them all except two, two who treated him like a person. He was older than most of these mortals, yet they treated him worse than an animal.
Lumen took his short sword and followed the merchant out the door.
"Come along, Lumen. The audience is becoming impatient. They want to see your little knife ears."
Lumen swore inwardly. One day, human, I will kill you.
As they passed the waiting room, two big, burly gladiators called out to him. They were Torren and Ans. Two of his tormentors, thieves, and general scum.
"Well, well, well, looks like the show is going to get wild, Torren."
"Lady? Not with those ears. Could cut off my knob with those," Ans laughed.
Lumen smiled. He was going to cut them in their sleep. Gaius yanked him by his ears.
"Hurry up, you fool."
Lumen let out a moan, gritted his teeth, and stumbled onto the sand.
He walked toward the center.
The crowd was sparse today. At least he would have fewer fruits thrown at him. It took him a whole day to get the sticky stuff out. Lumen looked below him. The sand was dry and caked with red liquid. Blood from the previous fighter. Judging by the lack of organs, Lumen assumed he was still alive.
Lumen stared up at the crowd. Their hunger remained the same—unending and insatiable.
He started looking around. Usually, by now, they would have released his opponent, yet Lumen could see nothing. Then, his ears heard a rustle. Little antennas stuck their heads out of the ground, causing craters to erupt as they emerged.
He jumped backward and gripped his leg. The pain was catching up to him.
Ironbone crabs.
They were as big as dogs but built like little rusted iron doors. They moved in unison, armored chitin clicking and clinking. They chipped all over the sand as they scuttled closer like a small troop. He could hear laughter from the crowd as he retreated.
He glanced at the crowd. They could be annoyingly distracting.
Lumen moved once again. Then they reacted. Sharp legs skittered, and their pinching claws snapped at his legs.
The first crab lunged at him, its pincers clamping onto his shin guards, testing how far they could plunge. Another came from the rear, slamming itself against the blade he held out protectively like a shield. Its shell was penetrated, but the creature managed to slither out of the metal of his blade.
The crowd roared from afar at his struggle. He saw the manager approach the crowd, watching with a nasty grin before tossing something at him. Something that smelled horrible. Something raw, like animal meat.
The crabs responded in a frenzy.
Lumen staggered backward, barely dodging a claw aimed at his injured leg, threatening to chomp off his femur and snap at his toes. The creatures learned fast that they could overwhelm him.
Lumen cursed. It would be so simple if his mana flowed adequately. But the [Core] of his mana was fractured. It hadn't worked properly in a long time. He could drain mana from the air, but it would hurt without his [Inner Core] to stabilize him.
The elf did his best to evade. He had managed to splinter and ruin one crab. However, there were still six left. It would be so easy to give up, to succumb—but he kept fighting.
"You can do it, Lumen," a voice came from the stands.
He turned and dodged.
"Lady Ysella!"
Yes, I can. I can do it for her.
Lumen shivered, and then—for a brief moment—something awoke in him. A spark of mana and light. He focused inward.
"Mana Burst!" he shouted on command. A reddish aura envelopedhim, strengthening his body.
He pivoted, moving to the side. The next crab lunged at him. He stepped towards it, twisting his blade under its carapace, cleaving through it, forcing the rest of the crabs to back away and reevaluate.
More came at him. He parried them all. Slashing, stomping, and kicking. Blood, thick and dark, painted his legs as pieces of their chitin littered the sand.
He turned his back. One last crab remained standing.
Larger than the rest.
Its shell had a different color, almost tempered like hardened iron. Every strike he made—even with the mana burst transformation coating him in magical aura—did nothing. His blade started to crack. It would wear and tear soon.
The thing snapped at him, and he vaulted over it, circling and kicking it forward. Pain flooded his chest, and he heaved. His vision started darkening. [Mana Burst] had taken too much of him. His body was a mess. He didn't know how long he could keep going without recovery.
The creature turned its back and leaped at him. Its pincer pressed into his calf, and he screamed.
Pure agony.
Flesh tore from his body, bones grinding under pressure.
A scream ripped through his throat as he forced his weight onto the oversized crab, shoving his blade into its head and driving it inside its lower eye socket. Again, and then again.
Then it stopped twitching.
The arena erupted in cheers—if you could call them a crowd, even.
Lumen stared at his leg. His wound had reopened. The nasty gash bled. They expected him to be victorious. Instead, he felt hollow, like a corpse.
He fell to the ground, succumbing to his wounds. His face meeting the sand.
Footsteps ran toward the center. Gladiators hauled him up in the air, carrying him back into the training quarters. He didn't resist them. He couldn't. His eyes closed, and he fell asleep.
The last thing he heard was someone from the crowd calling out his name.
"Lumen!"