CH444 The Gladiator
***
Sergeant Tahm Lopota nodded.
He didnât humour the crowd by theatrically leaping down like Brutus the Ogre had done. Instead, the Fury knight took his time, descending via the proper path leading to the arena floorâmuch to the crowdâs disappointment.
They booed and jeered as he made his way onto the arena grounds.
However, the Sergeant didnât spare them a single glance.
In fact, his next actions only enraged the crowd further.
Already clad in light metal armour, the Sergeant continued to arm himself. In addition to his shortsword, he equipped a round shield, further reinforcing his defence.
For a crowd that lived for bloodshed and spectacle, a combatant daring to turtle up like this was unforgivable.
"Booâ!"
The jeers echoed around the arena.
Even so, Sergeant Lopota never took his eyes off the giant standing before him.
Brutus lived up to his name.
He was a hulking mass of muscle and fat, standing nearly three metres tall. Coupled with his grotesque faceâwhich was only missing tusksâhe looked every bit like an ogre.
Appropriately, his weapon of choice was a massive spiked ogre club.
Under the cacophony of boos and jeers, the shaman of the Copper-skinned Orcs raised his staff and announced the start of the duel.
The moment the signal was given, Brutus surged forward at a speed entirely unnatural for his size.
He brought his club crashing down onto the Sergeantâs shield again and again, each strike following the last in rapid succession, giving his opponent barely any time to breatheâmuch less counterattack.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!!!
Strike after strike landed.
The Sergeant abandoned any thought of retaliation, instead angling his shield carefully so that the blows slid off rather than absorbing their full force.
Within moments, the shield caved inward, warped and dented. Cracks spread across his armour, and he was steadily driven backwards. The spikes on Brutusâs club began to connect more frequently, tearing shallow gashes into the Sergeantâs body with each exchange.
Sergeant Lopota was like a lone ship on a raging oceanâcompletely at the mercy of the storm.
Roar!"
Even so, the Sergeant did not give up.
He refused to let Brutus injure him without paying a price. Whenever Brutus the Ogreâs club scraped or tore into him, the Sergeant retaliated from sharp, awkward angles, carving shallow cuts into Brutusâs flesh with his shortsword.
Soon, wounds began to accumulate on Brutus as well.
Though they hadnât yet affected his combat strength, the sight of blood streaking down his massive frame was unmistakable.
The bloodied state of both combatants only fuelled the crowdâs savagery. Cheers and jeers rose another notch, blending into a single, frenzied roar. Even Brieger had lost himself in the brutality of the spectacle below.
The promise of eleven Berserk stones filling his coffers caused him to overlook the subtle signs unfolding in the arena.
However, not everyone was fooled.
"Looks like you were right, Rolfe," Bram the Blood Blade remarked suddenly.
"Thereâs something strange about Young Master Alexâs champion?" Rolfe asked.
"Indeed." Bram nodded. "Although it looks like heâs losing, his movements are short and precise. His composure is also unusual. Even with the crowdâs jeers and the stench of blood in the air, he hasnât lost himself to the atmosphere."
Bramâs eyes narrowed.
"Heâs sticking to his game plan with remarkable discipline, completely uninfluenced by external factors. The same cannot be said for Briegerâs man, who has clearly given himself over to bloodlust."
"Heâs either a veteran of a powerful army or an elite-trained soldier," Bram continued. "Both are things an ordinary noble house simply cannot produce. Only families with centuries of history and deep resources can field soldiers like this."
Bramâs evaluating gaze shifted toward Alexâs private box, lingering on the Fury soldiers standing behind himâeach clad in armour similar to Sergeant Lopotaâs.
"And look closely," Bram added. "This level of quality doesnât seem unique. That soldier isnât a special caseâheâs just one of the âordinaryâ troops under Young Master Alexâs command."
Rolfe exhaled slowly after taking in Bramâs analysis.
"For such a soldier to be considered expendable..." Rolfe said quietly. "Brieger is about to find himself knee-deep in trouble."
"That works out well for us, doesnât it?" Bram smiled.
"Indeed," Rolfe affirmed with a nod.
Bramâs brows suddenly furrowed.
"My only concern is that Young Master Alex is being far too flashy with his wealth. That kind of display attracts all sorts of unscrupulous characters in the Wildlands. Even Iâm having second thoughts just watching him flaunt that much money."
Rolfeâs lips curled into a predatory, knowing smile.
"But what if that is precisely his intention...?" he said softly. "To lure people like you in with your greed?"
Bramâs eyes shrank in horror.
A flurry of thoughts surged through his mindâmost of them centred on how Brieger had ended up in his current predicament.
âIf Rolfe is right...â
Bramâs gaze snapped outward, scanning the crowd.
He saw it thenâdozens of eyes burning with naked desire and avarice, all fixed on Alex. Meanwhile, the man himself sat calmly in his box, appearing utterly oblivious to the attention.
But how could a Gold-ranked sorcerer fail to notice such blatant, hostile intent?
A chill ran down Bramâs spine.
The way he looked at Alex changed entirely. No longer did he see merely a noble scion with deep pocketsâbut a terrifying schemer, one who understood the nature of these lands all too well.
The fight dragged on for several tens of minutes.
By now, Brutus the Ogre was panting heavily. The accumulation of shallow cuts inflicted by Sergeant Lopota had begun to tell. His movements slowed, and the power behind his swings weakened so visibly that even a child could sense something was wrong.
His roars grew hoarse. The fire in his eyes dulled, replaced by exhaustion and mounting frustration.
Brieger had stopped shouting as well.
He, too, finally noticed that something was amiss. Brutus was exposing more and more openingsâopenings Sergeant Lopota deliberately refused to exploit, instead choosing to bleed the giant dry, one careful cut at a time.
At last, the Sergeantâs strategy became clear to everyone.
Thenâ
After deflecting a sluggish strike from Brutus, Sergeant Lopota surged forward and slammed the rim of his battered shield into the giantâs shin.
The impact forced Brutus to recoil violently, his massive frame crashing down into a half-kneel.
Brutus tried to defend himself by sweeping his massive club in a wide arc, but Sergeant Lopota anticipated the move. He rolled smoothly behind the giant and slashed across the backs of both legs, cutting deep.
Brutus collapsed heavily to his knees, brought down to the Sergeantâs level.
With a desperate roar, the giant attempted one last counterattack. Sergeant Lopota met it head-on, parrying the sluggish blow with his shield before the club could gather any real momentum.
Then, the shortswordâwhich until now had only carved shallow wounds through Brutusâs layers of fat and muscleâfinally struck true.
In a single, fluid motion, the blade severed Brutusâs dominant arm.
Blood sprayed violently as the massive limb hit the arena floor, sending the crowd into a frenzy.
A baleful roar tore from Brutusâs throat.
But Sergeant Lopota did not hesitate.
While the giant was still reeling from the agony of losing his arm, the Sergeant stepped in and struck againâcleanly severing Brutusâs head from his neck.
The decapitated body collapsed, drenching Sergeant Lopota in blood. He stood tall amidst the gore, imposing and savageâexactly the kind of spectacle the crowd adored.
"Yeaâ!!!!"
The same people who had jeered him moments earlier now roared their approval.
But to Sergeant Lopota, their cheers were little more than noise.
After steadying his breathing, he picked up Brutusâs severed head and walked closer to Alexâs private stand, each step leaving bloody footprints behind himâformed from the blood of his fallen opponent
"I lay at your feet... Victory!" he roared.
For a heartbeat, the arena fell silent.
Then it exploded into raucous cheers and thunderous applause.
Alex nodded once, acknowledging both the victory and the Sergeantâs oath of fealty.
Behind his helmet, a smile spread across Sergeant Lopotaâs face. Taking in by the moment, he straightened and briefly acknowledged the crowdâs acclaim.
Just as he turned to leave the arenaâ
A sudden sense of overwhelming danger crashed into him.
His instinctsâhoned through years of battleâscreamed.
Defaulting to his ingrained training, he dropped low and raised his shield.
Swoosh!
BOOM!
A thick metal arrow slammed into the shield.
The force behind it was terrifying. The battered shield might as well have been parchment.
The arrow punched clean through the shield, through Sergeant Lopotaâs body, and buried itself deep into the ground behind him.
***