Chapter 32: Unwilling Gladiators – part 2

Sam

Colosseum, unknown Elven Realm date and time

Offering a hand, Aldric helped Max, Cedric, and Juniper get into the cell. The space felt much smaller.

"Howdy," Aldric said. "Need a hand to escape?"

"I was never happier to see your beard, dwarf," Tristan said. "How did you manage to pass the force fields?"

"There were none between you and us. Just fifty yards to dig. The kids' cell was next to ours."

"Are you okay?" Cedric asked. "I'm so happy you're all alive!"

"For now," Maverick said.

"Do we get out now, or try to pick the others up too?" Sam asked.

"Dunno," Aldric said. "You came up with the plan; you tell us."

"There must be a misunderstanding. What are you talking about?" Sam asked.

"I've been contacted through chat by somebody with the codename Secret Benefactor. It wasn't you?"

Sam and Tristan looked at each other, then shook their heads.

"Must be Jane," Tristan said. "Was the message general, or only for you?"

"For me, but very specific."

"What did she want?"

"She said to group together because there will be an opportunity to escape. Said we'll be n notified of the rest of the plan very soon. Told us where you were and all."

"Definitely Jane," Tristan said. "How come you were spared the fighting?" he looked at Tristan and Juniper.

"The king found out her mom was the queen of the Forest Elves," Cedric said.

"Because you told them!" Juniper snapped. "I don't like to flash my credentials. I would have fought my way out."

Over Cedric's dead body, huh? "And he wants to use her as a hostage or avoid a diplomatic incident?" Sam asked.

"No idea," Cedric said.

"It's for the better; we can plan properly now," Tristan said, exchanging a meaningful look with him and Maverick.

"If there's an opportunity to escape, it must happen before the bracket's semifinals, or people will start to die," Maverick said.

"Dragon is the winner," the voice of the announcer said. "What is your wish?"

"I wish to fight against Maverick in the next round. She's a worthy opponent," the girl yelled.

There was a short silence, then the king shouted: "Denied! The lottery will go on."

"Told you," Maverick said.

"This is getting boring," the King continued. "We will have the next fights two at the same time."

"I'll be back with the rest," Aldric said, going back to the hole. "Jane wants this cell as an intermediary base. Take care."

Dorian: Dorian vs Isolde

"Let's get it over with," Dorian said as soon as they were teleported into the fighting area, crossing his arms.

He and Isolde had been locked in different cells. Hence, they had no communication, but the only strategy possible was clear: let her strike him down and hope his momentary out-of-life phase was enough to give her the victory. There was no way to win the fight, even if Isolde had a hand tied behind her back. Or maybe there was one, with him unleashing his stored damage, but that meant hurting her, and that was a no.

"Go ahead. Shoot me, stab me, or whatever," Dorian said, because she was hesitating.

"Is this a foul scheme to lure me into overconfidence? Prepare yourself. Heya!" Isolde screamed, shaking the reins of her chariot.

The warg howled and dashed ahead, pulling the small vehicle at considerable speed, starting to circle around him. The arena had been divided into two halves, and Dorian could see Sam and Saint Georges crossing swords already.

What the fuck is she doing? Dorian wondered, turning to keep his face to his assigned enemy, who was still going round in circles.

The chariot stopped and turned, rushing at full speed toward him, Isolde's lance aiming at his chest. Sighing, Dorian prepared for the impact, knowing it would hurt a lot. Twenty feet before the lance could find his heart, there was a sudden burst of energy, and the woman was projected into the air, falling like a rock. The warg and the chariot slid to a stop on their sides, a few feet from him, the monster unconscious.

"The mage with unknown powers has used a telekinesis ability," the announcer said.

Mage with unknown powers is well said, 'cause I don't have a clue what that was, Dorian thought, running toward Isolde to check if she was okay.

As soon as she reached her, her hands thrusted forward, grabbing him by the arms, and pulling him to the ground. Dorian found himself rolling here and there without understanding the logic. He had nothing to do with it, but the the woman was screaming like he was hurting her.

"I'll need you to choke me hard," Isolde whispered. "I'll stop my heart for a few beats; that should break the curse, and I'll be free."

"What the heck are you talking about? Whoa!"

Without realizing it, he found himself with his right forearm around Isolde's neck, his left hand holding it in place. Hers were over his, pretending to try to unlock them, but instead pressing them harder.

"Squeeze, or I'll ask the warg to eat you," she said.

"Will you be fine?" Dorian asked, trying to obey her orders, but with care.

Her body became limp, and the commentator yelled, "Winner: Dorian Gray. State your wish."

You have broken through to the third tier. You have received a job offer: the role of Gundam Pilot.

"L-let me t-think about it!" Dorian stuttered.

Sam: Sam vs Saint-Georges

Could have been worse, Sam thought. Like a lethal duel.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

He had trouble keeping up with the French, for two reasons. The first was that the knight had abandoned the small sword for a rapier. It was as heavy as a katana, was unmatched for binding the adversary's weapon, and delivered fast, devious thrusts. The second was the Mysterious Benefactor. A chat message asking him to lose on purpose, so they could all escape with their lives.

He kept a basic Chudan-no-Kamae stance the whole time. In European Martial Arts, which he had studied before transitioning to kenjutsu, it was usually called the plow. Whoever mastered it could defend or attack with ease, and even pretend to let Saint Georges lock his sword and get past. The knight was leading nine points to Sam's seven, and that had taken less than two minutes. Ten was the limit.

[Mysterious Benefactor]: It's time; the other match is over.

[Sam]: The heck? Is Isolde… dead?

[Mysterious Benefactor]: No, she's faking it. Now. SG will ask to kiss Eliza one more time. That's good ratings, so the king will allow it. Activate Time is of the essence the moment you hear the words 'allowed' or 'granted'. You will feel the teleport activating. Aim your Warp Dash at it; it will go through the barriers. Kill the king, and we'll take it from there.

Fast as lightning, following a lunge, the tenth point was scored on Sam's forehead.

"The winner is Chevalier de Saint Georges, with ten points over seven," the announcer clamored.

Cheers and applause made Sam even more upset. He was sure he could win normally.

"What is your wish?" the King yelled into his microphone.

"To kiss my beloved Eliza one last time," Saint Georges yelled.

"Accepted," the king said, touching various points on his spherical device.

The unusual words made Sam hesitate for a second, but fortunately, Time is of the essence had started before. He saw Saint George's body blur, and a thin line of energy connecting it to the royal box. Warp Dash made Sam arrive first; his sword made the cutting motion in advance. With an incredulous look on his face, the king's head parted ways with his body, falling and rolling away.

MAIN TARGETS CLEARED 7/10

The golden sphere hit the floor a second later, then got caught under the collapsing body. Behind them, the forcefield had closed again. Sam dismissed his time effect; it was draining his Mana too fast. His first instinct was to go for the sphere, but the next message made him stop:

[Mysterious Benefactor]: You can't use the sphere. I'll guide you step by step. First, kill more than half of the Elven nobles in the lodge. Preferably those with red togas.

[Sam]: Are they innocent?

[Mysterious Benefactor]: Dunno, buddy. Just kill them.

Meanwhile, inside the box, things had evolved into a general brawl, which Sam had failed to notice because of his tunnel vision. Usually, when he killed his foe, that was it. He was more used to duels than battles.

Sweeping his sword obliquely and up, Sam cut a hand at the wrist, and an elf who had tried to get behind Saint Georges. The knight was trying his best to keep the Elves at bay, a thin violin in his left hand, plucking the strings as he fenced with his right. There was a definite slowing effect on the parliamentarians.

"Left hand pizzicatto!" Saint Georges yelled. "Not even Paganini did it better!"

"I don't care!" Sam yelled, flourishing the katana to stop the Elves from surrounding him. There were a lot of them, and many had weapons they shouldn't have been normally able to conceal underneath their togas, like longswords and spears. In the back, a few even had longbows, but their aim was impeded by the crowd.

He ducked an arrow, stabbing an elf in the gut. The woman had chain armor underneath, so he stabbed her again, in the foot. That worked, and the elf fell, but before he could finish her, someone pulled her away. Sam had to defend against multiple downward strikes, using his athleticism to duck or jump.

[Mysterious Benefactor]: Hurry up, you've killed only ten so far. I need over fifty.

"Kill the red guys preferentially," Sam yelled to Saint-Georges.

"Can you kindly ask them to switch places?" the knight yelled. All the elves attacking in the front were wearing green and gold togas.

Two more participants joined the battle. First came Eliza, who somehow managed to pick her lock. The cage had restrained her powers, or even drained them, because instead of Shadow Stepping, she hugged the wall and sneaked to the back benches, where she killed an elf archer by biting his throat out, feeding on him while using the man's body as a shield.

On the left side of the box, Jane had crawled away, dragging the King's body with her. Fumbling with the rings on the dead man's hands, she stopped at the third, did something, and a pile of objects flowed out of it. Sam could feel his rope, and there was a great joy in that. He ordered it to sneak to the first row and trip as many elves as possible. Saint Georges did the sensible thing, stabbing them, while Sam protected him with large swipes of his katana.

[Mysterious Benefactor]: C'mon buddy, hurry up. They're just a bunch of politicians. I need it done in under a minute, or we’re all goners. The champions are going to intervene.

Shit… Hoping mana exhaustion wouldn't kill him, Sam activated Time is of the Essence again. Focusing on his task rather than fighting against his body's desire to shut off, he hacked wildly to the left and right. The ability held only a fraction of its average duration. Still, when it ceased, more than half the elves present were dead.

"Surrender!" Jane yelled, raising a pistol with a silencer she picked from the pile the King's storage ring had thrown up. The elves hesitated, then one of them threw his polearm down, raised his hands, and the rest followed. "On your knees, hands your heads!" Jane yelled. The same elf who surrendered also knelt first, and one by one, reluctantly, all the nobles followed.

[Mysterious Benefactor]: I need five more.

[Sam]: Why? We killed more than half.

[Mysterious Benefactor]: From ninety-something. Not all of them came.

Killing prisoners was not something Sam had ever done, and he hesitated. Saint-George's as well. Jane stepped behind the last line of Elves and shot one in the back of his head. The Elves screamed and jumped back on their feet to fight.

[Mysterious Benefactor]: Plan B. Go go go.

All around Sam, darkness descended, accompanied by a sense of dread, a gut fear he didn't understand. He instinctively tried to jump back in time and failed, pain flashing through his whole body.

Void magic detected. Time-related abilities canceled.

[Mysterious Benefactor]: Are you stupid? Stay put.

The darkness disappeared. All the elves in the box were dead, their faces contorted in terror, their bodies twisted, broken. Tristan and Kariperos' illegitimate daughter, Sensibility, had appeared in the middle of the box.

The girl rushed toward the gold artifact, picking it up and yelling: "I require confirmation as the Interim Queen. Now!"

The Colosseum trembled, the tremor followed by a low rumbling.

"Did you have to kill them all?" Sam snapped at Tristan.

"You wanted to spare some; you should have killed enough of them when you had the chance!" the knight yelled.

"Confirmation acquired," a neutral voice spoke from the orb. "Empfindsamkeit is acknowledged as the Elven Queen."

"This is Queen Sensibility speaking," the girl yelled into the orb, her voice resounding in all the speakers surrounding the Colosseum. "The guards are ordered to stand down. I'm granting a full pardon to Duke Samuel and his entourage. The champions are urged not to interfere in our politics. The tournament is postponed until further notice."

[Mysterious Benefactor]: We did it. The guards are leaving.

[Tristan]: Thank goodness…

Sam turned and looked toward the arena. The two force fields that had separated the last two duels were still on. On the right were Isolde, Cedric, Juniper, and a giant robot armed with a Gatling gun. They were surrounded by dozens of Orc corpses and a few dead Elven guards. The remaining guards were retreating, exiting the arena through a portal. As soon as the last one passed, the portal closed.

On the left side stood a group of about twenty people. The Champions. They were nothing like anything Sam had seen before. Each was unique, but three stood out: a twelve-foot-tall man, holding a double axe as wide as a car, a featureless person floating above the ground, enveloped in lightning, and a woman who was glitching in and out of the space, leaving behind a sort of pulse that made Sam sick only by looking at it. Filming crews surrounded them, keeping their distance.

The loudspeakers creaked, then whistled with an annoying shriek. Sam covered her ears. Then came the words, so loud he felt his brain resonate. The ground shook.

“Postponare ludorum petitio negata est. Spectaculum pergeret debet!”

"What does it mean?" Sam asked.

"It's Latin. It means: The request to postpone the games is denied. The show must go on," Tristan said.

"Wow… I didn't think you were a nerd," Eliza said.

"It's called an education, thank you very much. I did six years in a Jesuit school, remember?"

"Hey, you're getting better at sarcasm," Eliza said.

"You were a good teacher, milady," Tristan bowed.

"Look!" Sam yelled, pointing at the left half of the arena.

A square hole had appeared in the middle of the ground, thirty feet wide, revealing a giant staircase. Creatures started to emerge from it. Skeletons and gargoyles, in various shapes. They spread around, ignoring the champions, running toward the force fields and passing through them like through a waterfall, without stopping. The public screamed in panic. The guards divided into groups of three and four and dispersed to take care og the new menace.

[Mysterious Benefactor]: The Colosseum is defective. Sensibility should ask the Champions to stop the mobs.

[Sam]: And what do you want us to do?

[Mysterious Benefactor]: Nothing. We'll run away while the Champions are busy stopping the monsters.

"The Colosseum commands are not responding," the girl complained at the same time. "The bloody structure is glitching."

"Can you ask the champions to fight the monsters?" Sam asked.

The girl spoke into the orb, and the speakers amplified her voice: "This is Queen Sensibility. The Champions must help stop the monsters. I'm authorizing them to take any necessary measures, even entering the Inner Sanctum and removing the heartstone. I repeat, I authorize them to enter the—"

"They've heard you," Sam said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Moving like a well-oiled machine, the champions split into two groups. Two of them, the lightning mage and the glitching woman, started to attack the monsters outside. The rest went down the stairs, the giant in front.