The crowd's cheers entered my ear, rubbing my ear drums the wrong way. "Is it wrong what I just did?" The crowd just continues cheering as I walk out of their view. The smells of flowers and frankincense coated the blood that was drying inside of my nose. My hands are heavy as I realizes my right hand clench something that was owned by my witless opponent.
I release the head of the fallen from my hand. The head drops and rolls like the last hope of freedom he once had and rolls into the view of the blood thirsty bigot crowd. Their cheers and calls just continued on as the darkness of the passage way envelops me.
The torch light blazes a path further into the darkness so my hooves can tread without worry. My right arm burns of pain inflicted by the blows of his opponents. Nothing that a little time will melt away the injury. But painful none the less stayed with me a reminder of the pain I caused a thousand fold to my opponent.
A figure melts into the firelight torch way. I become tense and draw my axe as the figure moves rapidly in my direction. "Is he going to be my next prey or is he just foolish to be in my way", my thoughts raced back to thinking of ways of breaking my newly found prey apart. A perfectly combed young lion dressed in full gladiator outfit bounds up to me. His smile paints a picture of youth excitement that I had long lost to the thralls of battle.
"I can't believe it is you! I've watched you when I was just a cub. You are the greatest gladiator that I have ever seen!", his exuberance just burns a hole through my heart. I look him in his face. "I can't believe that I am fighting after you in the same arena as you just did.." He just rambled for minutes expecting me to respond with kind words, and even a smile. My eyes burn him back telling him the story of years of pain that has been inflected by me and on me. He finally comes a little hesitant. The young one just smiles a weak grin. He shoves out his hand in a weak attempt to touch something he fantasized. My left had held the axe steady so I grabbed his hand with my weak right hand and tried to give him his gift of a firm hard handshake. The remains of my opponents and my own blood coated his hand as I squeezed the life out of the foolish lion's hand. His smile quickly turns to more of shocked look of twisted horror and pain on his face. I grunt as I released my grip and watch the lion stare as his own blood intermixed and flowed with my own and my last opponent 's blood. He murmurs profanities and pains flowed out of his darken snarled lips. His voice rises with power caring his ill-carved words deeper into the air. I turn back and stare right into his heart as I change my hand position on the axe. His voice lost its power, the wind didn't care to pick up his insolence from his lips. And the place fell quiet except for the hooves cobbling onto the stones as I walked away into my dark damp hole.
The torches light the darken tunnel to my resting-place. Where I can mend and take care of myself between battles on tournament days. The requested barrel is filled as requested, as always. I dip my hands into the cool clean water and paint my face with it's wholesome goodness as the agony and pain of my opponent is wiped from my face leaving, the scars of battle painted on my face. The water splashes on my broken, wounded arm and makes me relive the painful slice that put me in a world of misery. A world that I visit each day. The cheers from outside still paint my ears. The battle must be going on. I dip my rusty axe into the water and watch it containment the water with the blood of my weak opponent. His blood eventually just tints the water and becomes just an irritant in it's flow.
I pull out the axe and drop it to the ground. Not needing my implement of destruction I squat down on a near by pillar and I cup my muzzle in my hands. "I destroyed another opponent."
The crowd voices rise.
"Was his crime worthy of his destruction."
The crowd noises moves to awe.
"Was his crime worth the taint on my soul? To combine into the black blemish I can't hide from god?"
The crowd cheers and the faint clang of metal emit from outside his lair.
He lifts his head up a little, "I thought it was a great honor. To fight for the government. To fight for the people. To fight and win. But what am I doing? Killing people who can't even defend themselves. Fighting them to their own doom?"
The crowd moans and spins the sounds into a cheer.
"Maybe I am the hand of justice", He moves and his battle scars remind me of his crimes and punishment he has dwelt on others. "Maybe I am getting to old for this. But what happens when I can fight no more. Too old to hold my own axe. To be sent to rest in a home out in the country. So to slowly silently die"
The crowd gasps and applauds for a moment.
"But I can't let it end like that. I can't let it be. I am a warrior. But now this blood is not for me. Killing , miming, and wounded it has crushed the spirit of my soul. I can't let my axe swing and kill another soul"
Claps and applause of the incredible battle bath my ears. But I am deaf to those struggle that are outside of my domain.
A faint cry and howl becomes louder as the crowd grows silent. A creature in severe pain has his voice grovel against the sky. Then it suddenly stops with a faint gurgle and a thud.
I lift my head up, "Maybe, if God graces me, I can die today"
I grab my axe. My deliverer of death and the closest thing I have to a friend.
The crowd voice doesn't speak as one but as a confused motley of voices and twists of fate.
I quickly bandage up my arm, they will be calling for me. Calling for me to finish the job that the young pup couldn't do. Calling to end this parade and leave the bodies of those that oppose the right to fall down in the wrong.. I am ready to take on my own death. I'm not afraid. I will join my comrades in battle once again.
The crowd becomes a roaring thunder of boos. I know that if I don't get out there soon the crowd will become murderous. I am only savior of society I must do my job.
A youngin comes out of the shadow, His nubs for horns on his head prove that he is just youngon,"Sir, you are requested to finish the battle."
I grunt at him. He jumps back. I smile at the thought that another person finds me so scary while my bones whine and grind their defiance of my actions. That age is the only thing they hear as their master.
As I walked towards the doors the crowd sounded like they were out of control. I hope this is a good fight that I will be entertaining.
The sounds of the audience turn from boos and hiss to thunderous applause as I enter the stage of battle. I raise my axe into the air and bellow my battle cry. The crowd increases in sound and appetite in blood. I let my gaze enter the stands and I see death watching me from far away, and I know that today I will have my greatest and final fight. I will fight my way to my final victory and to the relief I seek will be given!
A flower from a maiden in the stands is thrown my way. I quickly catch it and clench it in my teeth as the crowd waves me on. I move my head and waved to the crowd again causing undo harm to the flower. It's petal fall pathetically from the bloom down into the blood that has pooled around my feet.
Still clenching the remains of the weak flower in my teeth I ready my axe as the opponent turns to me and I engage.
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