Book 2 Chapter 30: In the Cells of the Colosseum, part 2

Sam

Colosseum, unknown Elven Realm date and time

Sam woke up with a hand slapping him, hard, repeatedly. Groaning, he instinctively searched for his sword. It was gone.

"He's awake; you can stop," an unfamiliar voice said. Sam couldn't see the person who had spoken.

"It's your fault," Tristan, the one doing the slapping, said, finally relenting. "All that stupid idea of organizing stupid stuff. Stupid."

"I'm sorry…" Sam said, rubbing his eyes. There was next to no light in the place they were. "How long was I out?"

"Three days. We were all teleported and detained before we knew what was going on."

"Two and a half days," the unknown voice said. "It's Monday, in our time."

"So long?"

Sam shook his head, rising on his buttocks. Underneath him was packed earth. He was in a cell of sorts, with a small grated window on the opposite side.

"The whole Colosseum is an artifact with space affinity, and that guy's a space mage. He broke your time jump with raw power, 'cause without space, there's no time," the voice said.

"I suppose," Sam puffed, still feeling disoriented.

"You were in pretty bad shape. All your Mana was gone. We didn't think you'd make it."

"They had jousting and the races during the weekend," Tristan said. "Today's the Earthling bracket. With new rules."

"Old rules, restored," the voice corrected the knight.

"We'll be forced to fight each other," Tristan said.

"You against me?"

"They'll draw lots," the voice said. "Half the fights will be to the death, the rest on points. The fighting continues to a final. The top three surviving fighters will be freed; the rest will become slaves."

"Liz, Aldric, and Max are exempted," Tristan continued. "We don't know the reason."

Sam swallowed a knot. In all that madness, there was a sliver of joy. Penny and their unborn kid were safe, on the Realm. Nevertheless, the thought that he might never see her again, and their child, squeezed his throat like an iron grip.

"Food!" a voice bellowed, and a few round items were thrown into the cell. Sam guessed the shape because of the rolling noise. One hit his shin. It was bread, hard and tasteless. Nevertheless, he struggled to bite into it. Every bit of energy was welcome. He felt depleted, which meant his Mana was low.

"Is there a way out?" he asked.

"There are layers of forcefields everywhere," the voice said. "Rezzes that require teleport won't work."

"You won't make it," Tristan said. "I would. My Dark Void is acting like a pocket universe and goes through those fields like a hot knife through butter, but I can take only one person with me. Hint: it won't be you."

"Go get help," Sam said.

"You don't get it, don't you? Where? We're on the bloody elven planet."

"Elves are the majority, but not the only species. There are also orcs, goblins, trolls, ogres, and all sorts of fae," the voice said.

"Juniper's folks are here. They're our allies," Sam said.

"Their tribe is hundreds of miles away, on another continent, and a sea in between," Tristan said.

"I see," Sam said slowly. "For now, we stay put and take it step by— Ugh," he wailed. Tristan had kicked his ribs very hard.

"Don't tell me… what to do… You are not… my boss…" Tristan said, adding a kick on each pause.

"I can understand you're upset," Sam groaned, parrying the next hit with his hand.

"Yes, Captain Obvious, I'm upset. You're an idiot, and you treat us like we're retards. I learned Latin at eight, and your Interface still doesn't recognize my real Intelligence, because I don't know some stupid movie shit you consider culture. What did you learn at eight? Pokemon?"

Playing World of Warcraft, actually…

"Do you have any water?" Sam asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the kicking.

Tristan pushed a flask into his hands. It was half full, and Sam drank only three gulps, leaving the rest for the others. The light began to grow. The third person in the cell was a child, a girl, maybe twelve years old, with a big head, a bit like a pumpkin.

"Hi, I'm Maverick," the girl said, coming to squat next to Sam. She looked like the typical hyperactive kid, her eyes always on the move. "I'm thirteen. I duel-wield. I'm level twenty. I took it slow. I never killed anyone. Is it hard? Tristan says it isn't."

"Nice to meet you, Maverick," Sam said, patting the girl's head, feeling his eyes go watery.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to NovelPhoenix for the genuine story.

He remembered reading about her: a kid awakened through a clerical error, receiving the System instead of a treatment she was scheduled for. What made it worse was that the five youngest Interface users were accompanying the delegation to watch what was originally supposed to be a sports event, a sort of school trip. The Dragon and Zappy were also there, along with Cedric and Juniper. His idea.

"It's your fault," Tristan repeated, like reading his mind.

"You say you can go through the force fields? What if you'd kill the king?"

"I have news, dumbass. Dark Void is visible. He'll see it coming and teleport away."

"So what are we going to do? Fight our way out?"

"Fight?" Tristan laughed bitterly. "Look outside."

Struggling, and succeeding only with Maverick's help, Sam got on his feet and wobbled to the window. It faced the arena. All around the Colosseum were patrols of Orcs, big, muscled, wearing an assortment of weapons, from swords and shields to pikes and muskets. Each had an Aura, making them First Orders on the high end, in Realm terms. The overall numbers were in the hundreds. He slid down, using the wall as a backrest.

"They look strong."

"They are many, and what you see are the runts. Their commanders are tenfold stronger, and the elite Elven knights even more powerful. Sneaking out? Maybe. Fighting? Not before I level up and understand how stats work."

"Stats are tricky," the girl said. "Look at Cedric. He has the highest stats of us, but has no idea how to fight."

"The kids sparred for fun the day before we came here," Tristan said.

"Who won?" Sam asked.

Tristan pointed at the girl. "Dragon came in second, Cedric last."

"You won? Really?"

"Yeah," Maverick nodded. "I figured out what stat matters most for me and trained it."

"And what would that be, strength?" Sam asked, wondering if that tiny girl could lift a bus with a finger.

"Soul resonance."

"Soul resonance?" Sam repeated mechanically.

"Idiot," Tristan sneered.

"The words are misleading. It's about the resonance between your emotions and magic. If you're true to yourself and reflect them into your fighting, all your stats will be buffed. The trick is to make all your stats enhance one another. Syringe, how the grown-ups say."

"Synergy," Sam said. "So… no plan for escaping, huh?" he returned to the matter at hand.

"Sure there is. Jane came up with it."

"She's not happy being a queen?" Sam scoffed.

"Would you be happy in her place?"

"So what's the plan?" Sam asked.

"We don't know, but it's supposed to happen today, after the first fighting session. Jane said more info was on a need-to-know basis."

"Smart," Sam nodded. "Compartmentalizing. Nevertheless, we should work on a plan B."

"Jane is the only one who can contact the others. Magical barriers are blocking the chat," Maverick said.

"Then we contact her."

"What part of blocking the chat don't you understand?" Tristan asked.

"How did she contact you, then?"

"She sent us a message through a camera guy, who was scanning the Colosseum for a game, with all the details we told you," Maverick said. "Then, she started to send chat messages, now and then. Maybe she tricked the king into giving her access somehow. She's using an anonym."

"Pseudonym," Tristan said.

"So, the only way out depends on Jane, and we don't even know what the plan is," Sam concluded.

"There's worse: some of us could die in the games," Tristan said. "It's a lottery. They pick who fights who, and whether the fight is to the death or not."

"The lottery is rigged," Maverick said.

"Jane told you so?"

"It's Mav's theory, but we'll find out soon enough," Tristan said.

"Tristan is immune to any form of magical inspection. They think he's weak, so he'll be put in one of the first matches," the girl said. "Probably lethal, dunno, and maybe they'll bring in an ogre or an orc to make it more interesting. Zappy and Dragon will be put to fight each other, to the death. Sisters, you see. Drama means ratings, ratings mean money. Same for Cedric and Juniper. You… I'd bet you'll fight the French. Asian versus European martian arts."

"Martial," Sam said involuntarily.

"Dorian, Isolde, me, and Pops could each go against another; can't tell. If more than two predictions happen, the lottery is rigged."

"I have an idea," Sam said. "Jane publicly begs the king to change the lethal duels into non-lethal. Puppy eyes and all. Juniper said his kind likes to be flattered."

"And how do you plan to give her the message?" Tristan said.

"Chat?"

"I've just told you: chat works only when she contacts us."

"You've said she used some cameraman first. We ask him to pass her a message."

"It was one message, through a guy who knew you from your game-designing days. He says he owed you a favor, but that's it."

"I'll talk to him," Sam said.

"The crews won't start filming until tomorrow. We're not interesting enough."

"We are not interesting?" Sam gasped, feeling the insult in every bone.

"Yeah. We're considered small fry. The Koreans might send a drone team to film Dorian, but it's not guaranteed."

"The interesting stuff starts tomorrow, with a Battle Royale between about a hundred criminals," Maverick said. "It's been a century since they stopped this kind of thing, but the new king reinstated it."

"Like the Hunger Games?" Sam asked.

"Yep. The last ten to survive are pardoned. After tomorrow comes the big league. Multiverse champions. They managed to bring twenty or so, and they're super strong."

"Maybe we can profit the—"

"Look," Tristan sighed, "Jane is the only one able to coordinate all of us, and for the better or for the worse, she's our best chance. Just keep calm and try not to get in our way. If you do, I'll kill you myself."

"They're letting the public in," Maverick said, putting a hand next to her ear.

Getting up again, easier this time, Sam stretched up to have a better view. Elves, humans, dwarves, and orcs were entering the stalls and the boxes, in long lines, coming from different directions at the same time. If what the former king was right, the Colosseum Games were a big event, attracting over a hundred thousand spectators from many Realms.

The incoming masses had a hypnotic effect: streams of thousands of people, looking different, dressed in so many fashions that Sam lost count. The stalls were organized by species, and even within those groups, there were further separations. Alternating between resting and watching, Sam didn't even notice time passing.

The rich entered last, the Elves wearing togas, and the latest of them all was the king, accompanied by Jane, dressed in a spectacular dress and with a crown surrounded by small bells. A force field enclosed the box after the rightful king, Karoperos, made his appearance. Looking depressed, Jane remained up, to the right of the throne, a hand on Karoperos' shoulder. The Elves sat in the rows of benches behind.

When the lots were drawn, Maverick's predictions were almost spot on. The first match was between Tristan and a harghuz, whatever that was, and it was to the death. So were the matches between Dragon and Zappy, and Dorian and Isolde. Maverick and Pops and Sam and Saint Georges had a match on points. Cedric and Juniper were not mentioned. After the results of the lottery were announced, the King rose and lifted his right hand to demand silence.

"My dear subjects, I have an important comunique. At the end of the games, we'll have a special auction with artifacts and slaves," Karoperos yelled. "An ancient staff, an indestructible rope, a most beautiful and lewd Vampire, a stonemage capable of building roads and fortifications, a coinmage who will manage your treasury, and two entertainers, one of whom is the famous Mozart."

The king pressed his fingers on the gold artifact, and a cage appeared beside the throne, on the left. Inside was Eliza, dressed in a ballerina costume, the one from her iconic role as the Black Swan, but with her long leather boots instead of ballet shoes. A storm of applause followed.

Jerks, Sam thought, then he covered his ears, deafened by the loud trumpet signals.