How long has it been?

  Days? Weeks?

  It was hard to tell the passing of time when you were locked in a cold, dark dungeon for most of it. I squinted as the gates slowly lifted and I got my first dose of sunlight in who knows how long. The sand in front of me was so bright it might as well have been a replica of the sun on Earth, though the blistering heat wafting from it was a welcome reprieve for my cold flesh.

  With my arms bound in front of me, I stepped into the familiar, yet not so familiar grounds of the Colosseum. High walls rose around me, dozens of feet tall. Right above them was a crowd of thousands, maybe tens of thousands of people cheering and shouting at the top of their lungs. The sight of them sickened me because I knew what they were cheering for. What they came here to see.

  A bloody massacre.

  I surveyed the crowd, looking for someone. It didn't take long to find them, especially with the blatant lack of spectators within their general vicinity, the cluster of guards around them, and the massive throne on which they sat.

  The ruler of this Kingdom. My tormentor.

  His throne was placed much higher in the stands than the last time I saw him. I guess he wasn't too pleased with the spear I threw at him. If only he knew he wasn't completely out of my range yet.

  Stationed at the edge of the walls around me were archers. They had bronze skin tempered by the scorching sun and pitch black hair.

  Each of them had on a leather jerkin, with leather skirts on top of silk trousers.

  In their hands were longbows of exquisite workmanship, a quiver filled with arrows at their back.

  The gate behind me began to lower, and once it slammed into the ground I raised my bound arms above my head. A few seconds later, accompanied by a sharp whistle, an arrow flew right between them, severing the rope and lodging itself into the soft sand behind me. The archers of this Kingdom were indeed one of the best in the world. Perhaps second only to the elves. I would have regarded it an honour to be shot by them.

  If I was crazy that is.

  I shook off what was remaining of the rope from my wrists, enjoying the tingling sensation of blood flowing back into my palms. There were four gates leading into the arena's battleground, all positioned at cardinal points. I always made my entrance and exit through the East gate.

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  The other gates began to open, and men clothed in armour stepped out.

  Three from the Western gate just opposite me, two from the Southern gate and another three from the Northern gate.

  They sported an assortment of weapons. A claymore, short swords, a spear, a bow, an axe and a mace. At a glance I could tell the weapons were of poor quality, with the steel of the blades having specks of rust all over and the wood of the spears splintered and frayed at different points. Their armour was just as lacklustre. Leather scraps that didn't look to offer any considerable protection for the areas they covered.

  But they were better off than me. All I had on for protection were tattered rags that couldn't protect me from a mosquito bite, not to mention a steel blade. I also had no weapon to speak of. Well, that last part wasn't entirely true. I did have an assortment of weapons to pick from. A claymore, a spear, short swords, a mace…

  There was just the extra step of taking them from cold, lifeless hands.

  Observing their demeanour, I could see varying shades of fear plastered across their faces.

  That was a given, considering their lives were on the line.Although it wasn't too pleasant since I knew who the primary source of fear was.

  A man stepped out from the King's entourage in the stands and approached the edge of the walls. As he stepped forward, the cheers of the people quieted down.

  "Welcome, citizens, to another day at the arena!" he shouted.

  "I'm sure you're all itching to get this match started!"

  His voice was heard clearly across the entire Colosseum, amplified by sound magic.

  "As you all know, those who stand on the Colosseum grounds are criminals. All guilty of crimes punishable by death!

  "However, there is a prize to be won by fighting in the arena. The prize…of life! These walking dead men get a chance to live once again! A fantastic deal if I do say so myself. And not only that, they provide a spectacular show for us all to watch as they do so! A win-win situation for all of us!"

  The crowd burst into cheers.

  "Well, for everyone except the Savage of course…" he spat out that last sentence with a derisive tone, as he looked down on me with a condescending smirk.

  "With all the formalities out of the way, let us begin the match!"

  Pulling an ornate horn from his robes, he blew on it.

  As he did, a deep bellowing sound that quelled the cheers of the crowd flowed forth.

  Bwooom!

  Bwooom!

  Bwooom!

  Bwooooom!

  And so it began.