The night had passed without alarm, Rome resting beneath the gentle glow of rekindled sunlight. Within the resort chambers, the three heroes stirred.
Alaric was the first to rise, stretching his arms until his joints popped. He moved with the slow, steady rhythm of a soldier accustomed to discipline, washing his face in the basin of cool water before pulling on fresh clothes. His new blade, gifted by Caesar himself, leaned against the wall—polished and gleaming. He strapped it to his side with quiet reverence.
Celestria awoke next, hair tousled, her single eye blinking against the morning rays sneaking through the curtains. She yawned softly before shuffling to the vanity, where she brushed her hair, tied it into place, and adjusted her eyepatch. She hummed to herself as she slipped into her mage cloak, lingering for a moment on a pair of golden earrings she had claimed as her reward. She smiled at her reflection—satisfied, even if she'd never admit it aloud.
Sylas, as always, was the last to rise. He groaned, sitting up slowly, then reached for his mask, setting it firmly over his mouth as though it were as essential as breathing. After a rinse and a change into lighter traveler's clothes, he checked the tension of his bowstring and slung the weapon across his back. Before leaving, he leaned casually against the wall, waiting for the others with that sly confidence that never seemed to fade.
Once all three were ready, they stepped out together into the grand hallway of the resort. The murmur of morning activity filled the air—servants carrying trays, nobles already discussing matters of wealth and politics—but the three cut through it all with an ease earned from battle and survival.
Outside, the golden light of day washed over Rome, spilling across rooftops and columns. And there, at the steps of the resort, the Champion awaited them. No longer clad in the burning splendor of his Armourbound, he stood tall nonetheless, his presence unmistakable. His helmet still masked his face, but in his hand rested the same spear that had pierced horrors beyond imagination.
He glanced at them as they approached, his voice calm yet firm.
"You're awake. Good. Rome has need of us again."
Sylas tilted his head, arms folded.
"Do we ever get a day off?"
Celestria huffed, crossing her arms.
"You're the one who spent half yesterday flirting with every woman in sight. You already had your day off."
Alaric only chuckled, shaking his head.
"Enough. If the Champion is here, it means something is brewing. Let's hear him out."
The Champion nodded, gaze narrowing toward the distant horizon.
The Champion regarded them in silence for a long moment before finally speaking, his voice deep and steady.
"You're awake. Good timing. Today marks the beginning of the Rite Hunt."
Celestria's eye lit up with curiosity.
"The… Rite Hunt? What's that?"
The Champion crossed his arms, his silver cape shifting in the breeze.
"It's a sacred Roman tradition. Gladiators, Centurions, even common bearers gather for the hunt of beasts—creatures twisted by shadow and chaos. The larger the beast, the greater the honor, the heavier the reward. It is not merely sport… it is proof of strength."
Sylas chuckled, tapping the hilt of his dagger.
"So basically, a contest to see who can bring down the biggest monster. Sounds like my kind of game."
Alaric's lips curved into a faint smirk.
"Glory in combat, strength in unity. Rome certainly knows how to keep its warriors sharp."
Celestria tilted her head, folding her arms as if to resist the smile tugging at her lips.
"And you're asking us to take part?"
The Champion nodded once.
"I am. This hunt will test not just strength, but will. You've fought horrors, yes… but here, every strike is watched by thousands. Every breath, judged. Rome wishes to see the heroes who saved it, and the arena hungers for a show."
For a moment, silence lingered between the three. Then, Alaric placed his hand over the hilt of his new blade, voice firm.
"Then we'll fight."
Celestria sighed dramatically, though her single eye shimmered with anticipation.
"Fine, fine. But if my cloak gets torn, you're all buying me a new one."
Sylas only laughed, stretching his arms behind his head.
"Count me in. I never say no to an audience."
The Champion gave a satisfied nod, turning toward the bustling streets.
"Then follow me. The Colosseum awaits."
And with that, the four walked into the heart of Rome, the morning alive with whispers of anticipation for the blood and spectacle to come.
The Colosseum towered before them, stone arches gleaming under the rising sun. Already, the streets around it were swelling with life—vendors shouting, gamblers exchanging coins, citizens flooding toward the gates to secure their seats for the spectacle.
The Champion walked ahead with calm purpose, his silver cape trailing behind him like a banner. When the four reached the gates, guards parted instantly, bowing with respect before letting them pass. Inside, the echo of distant roars carried through the halls like the whisper of storms.
At a marble desk beneath the arena's archways, a scribe looked up as the Champion approached.
"Champion. You intend to compete?" the scribe asked, eyes wide.
"Not I," the Champion rumbled, resting a hand on Alaric's shoulder and then motioning toward Celestria and Sylas. "Them. Register these three under my name."
The scribe froze, quill trembling. "The heroes of Gaul? Entering the Rite Hunt?"
The Champion nodded once. That was all it took—the scribe scrambled to dip his quill and record their names, the sound of ink scratching parchment drowned out by the murmurs of nearby attendants who had overheard.
When it was done, the Champion turned to face them. His tone was steady, almost ceremonial.
"The Rite Hunt is simple in word, but merciless in truth. To win, you must endure a gauntlet of beasts. Each round grows harsher. Each foe deadlier. Other teams of Rome's finest will enter as well. If you falter, you die. If you endure… you surpass them."
Celestria shifted uneasily, though her eye gleamed with stubborn fire.
"And if we survive all the rounds?"
The Champion's visor tilted ever so slightly, the faintest smile ghosting behind his helm.
"Then you face me."
Sylas blinked, taken aback for a moment, then smirked.
"So the prize for victory is… fighting the Champion himself? That's either genius or madness."
Alaric's jaw tightened, though there was excitement in his voice.
"A trial of strength, endurance, and spirit… fitting. If Rome demands it, then we'll see it through."
The Champion crossed his arms.
"Good. Prove to Rome that you are more than whispers of rumor. Show them you are warriors. Bleed if you must—but endure."
As he spoke, the distant thunder of the crowd swelled, shaking the very stone beneath their feet. The hunt was about to begin.
The Champion guided them through winding corridors beneath the Colosseum, the muffled roar of the crowd above echoing down like the rumble of thunder through stone. Torches burned along the walls, their light flickering across mosaics of ancient battles—heroes slaying beasts, gladiators raising their weapons high, emperors crowning victors.
At last, the Champion stopped before a heavy iron door. He pushed it open, and heat, sound, and the smell of sweat and blood rushed inside.
"This is the waiting chamber," he said simply.
The three stepped in and were immediately drowned in a cacophony of voices—other warriors murmuring strategies, sharpening blades, adjusting armor. Some sat in tense silence, their eyes closed in prayer. Others laughed in defiance, boasting of the kills they would claim.
But it was not the warriors that caught their eyes first. It was the arena beyond.
Through the barred windows that overlooked the sands, Alaric, Sylas, and Celestria witnessed chaos. A monstrous creature lumbered across the battleground—its body plated in thick, jagged armor that gleamed black under the sun. Its head was like a grotesque chicken, beak snapping with razor-sharp edges, but its body moved on all fours with terrifying speed.
Teams were already engaged. One group of three had set themselves in a wedge formation, shields raised to deflect the beast's charges. Another team used converters to scale its flanks, one summoning flame lances that hissed against its armored hide, another conjuring earthen spikes to pin its legs.
The monster bellowed, shaking the ground as arrows and fire rained down upon it. The crowd roared with equal ferocity, the sound of tens of thousands chanting for blood and spectacle.
Celestria gripped the iron railing, her eye wide with awe.
"They're… organized. Look at them—each move is planned, every strike coordinated."
Sylas tilted his head, his voice low and sharp with interest.
"They're not just throwing power around. They're controlling the field. Position, timing, rhythm. It's a hunt in truth, not just a fight."
Alaric's hand rested on his sword hilt as he studied the beast. His gaze hardened.
"That armor… normal steel wouldn't pierce it. Their converters are the only reason they're holding out. They fight as one, or they'd already be corpses."
The Champion crossed his arms, visor gleaming faintly in the torchlight as he regarded the arena without flinching.
"This is what you'll face. Beasts that laugh at careless blows. Foes designed to test not only your strength, but your unity. Remember this—Rome does not cheer for survival alone. Rome cheers for triumph."
The crowd erupted again as the armored beast fell with a final shriek, spikes of stone tearing through its underbelly while flames devoured its exposed flesh. Blood splattered the sand, and the victorious team raised their weapons high, drinking in the thunderous applause.
Celestria's lips curved into a nervous smirk.
"Well… that's not intimidating at all."
Sylas chuckled under his breath, though his eyes never left the arena.
"I've fought in forests, on cliffs, in shadows. But never in front of an audience like this."
Alaric stood silent for a long moment, then finally exhaled.
"Then let us be ready. For our turn will come."
The Champion gave a slow, approving nod.
"Indeed. And when it does, Rome will know your names."
The iron doors groaned open, and a wave of sound struck the three like a crashing tide—the deafening roar of Rome's people chanting for blood. The ground trembled with their voices, dust shaking loose from the stone ceiling.
Alaric, Sylas, and Celestria stepped forward into the blinding sunlight of the Colosseum. The sand beneath their boots was still wet with the blood of the beast that had fallen moments ago, its carcass already being dragged away by chains and slaves.
The Champion's voice echoed behind them, calm yet edged with challenge.
"Your turn. Show them not just strength… show them greatness."
The three exchanged a single glance, and then, almost as one, they activated their Converters.
Light burst from them in a storm of raw energy.
Alaric's body froze over, shards of glacial blue spreading like veins across his flesh before shattering into plates of ice-forged steel. His gauntlets pulsed with frost, and his helm formed with a hiss of cold mist.
Celestria's cloak flared open, fire igniting from its lining. Flames licked her arms and legs before dispersing into crimson armor etched with ember veins, her staff reshaping itself into a blazing scepter. Her eyepatch gleamed faintly in the firelight, a symbol of both her charm and her fury.
Sylas shimmered with lightning, his bow already alive with crackling arcs. Electricity crawled across his armor as it sealed onto his frame, a living storm contained only by his will. Sparks danced across his mask, the crowd gasping at the predator-like silhouette he cast.
From the far gate, chains rattled.
A monstrous roar followed.
The next beast lurched forward into the light—its eyes burning red, its jagged armor darker and thicker than the last. Its body was hulking, its claws like jagged scythes. Its grotesque chicken-like head snapped with a deafening screech, spittle and blood spraying from its beak. The ground shook with every step it took closer.
The crowd erupted.
The beast's gaze fixed on the three warriors, its massive chest rising and falling as it let out a roar so violent that it sent waves of sand flying.
Sylas raised his bow slowly, smirking behind the mask.
"Well… looks like breakfast came to us."
Celestria's staff ignited, flames curling around her in a spiral.
"Then let's not keep it waiting."
Alaric slammed his ice-forged blade into the ground, shards shooting outward like roots of frost.
"Stay close. Strike together."
The beast lowered its head, muscles bunching, rage burning in its eyes.
Then it charged.
The Colosseum became a storm of screams, dust, and the clash of power as the three braced to meet the monster head on.
The beast thundered forward, claws gouging furrows in the blood-soaked sand. But before its jagged beak could strike, the three split in a deadly triangle.
Alaric swept to the left, frost trailing every footstep. His ice-forged blade pulsed with Converter light, and with a violent swing, he unleashed a volley of jagged ice swords. They shot across the sand like spears of winter, piercing through the beast's thick hide. The creature bellowed in fury as its limbs stiffened, frost racing across its joints. Its legs sank, half-frozen, and the weight of its massive body made the ground quake.
From the right, Sylas had already nocked an arrow, lightning surging down the length of his bow. The shaft he loosed wasn't wood, but a glowing seed bound with Converter energy. It hissed through the air and buried deep beneath the monster's chest. The ground trembled.
Then the earth ruptured.
A great oak exploded upward, roots bursting from the sand like serpents. The tree's trunk wrapped itself around the beast's torso, the roots constricting its legs tighter than chains. Bark split and bled sap as the tree struggled against the monster's thrashing bulk, but it held. The Colosseum gasped, half in awe, half in terror.
Above them, flames spiraled.
Celestria was already airborne, her Converter blazing so hot that heat shimmer distorted her form. Hovering high above the beast, she gripped her scepter with both hands, sparks of fire leaping along its length. Her single uncovered eye burned like a sun.
"Burn to ash!"
She thrust the scepter down.
A torrent of fire cascaded from the heavens, a pillar of flame so massive it painted the Colosseum red. The explosion struck the monster's back, detonating with a thunderclap that rattled every bone in the arena. Sand and stone erupted into the air, the blast swallowing the beast in a furnace of molten fury.
The crowd erupted into madness—cheers, screams, and chants echoing like rolling thunder.
When the firestorm cleared, the beast still stood.
Its armor was scorched black, chunks of charred flesh dripping like molten tar. Its head jerked violently, eyes blood-red and hateful, smoke pouring from its cracked beak. With a guttural roar, it ripped free from the ice, snapped the roots of the oak, and swung its massive claw toward Alaric.
The air itself seemed to rip with the force of its strike.
The Colosseum trembled as the beast's claws cleaved through the frozen earth where Alaric once stood. Shards of ice exploded outward, slicing shallow cuts across his cheek as he rolled aside. The monster's howl rattled the pillars, a sound so violent the very crowd shrank back in terror.
Sylas was already moving, arrows flashing like streaks of lightning. One shaft whistled through the air, trailing sparks, before it exploded against the beast's ribs in a flash of fire and splintered bone. Another arrow followed, this one of hardened wind, piercing into its shoulder with a sound like tearing parchment.
The beast staggered—but only for a moment. Its beak split open, vomiting a shriek that sent a shockwave across the sands. The roots of Sylas's conjured tree shattered to pulp. Alaric was thrown back, crashing into the Colosseum wall with a grunt, blood spraying from his lips.
Celestria snarled and swept her scepter in a burning arc. A wall of flame erupted between the beast and her brothers, the heat so intense the sand turned to glass beneath it. She soared above, wings of Converter fire spreading wide, before she dove.
She spun midair, staff raised high, and summoned a spiral of flame into a raging vortex. The inferno enveloped the beast, its skin bubbling, armor plates cracking under the sheer heat. The stench of burning flesh filled the arena, so strong that spectators gagged.
But the beast did not fall.
Through the firestorm it charged, half its face melted to bone, its claws ablaze but still swinging with murderous power. It burst through the inferno like a demon out of hell and swatted Celestria from the sky. She hit the ground hard, coughing blood, her wings guttering to embers.
"Celestria!" Alaric's roar echoed.
His Converter flared, frost crystallizing across the ground in an expanding wave. Ice pillars burst upward, jagged spears that impaled the beast's legs and locked its chest in a frozen prison. He leapt high, riding one of the ice pillars, his sword gleaming like a shard of a glacier.
He came down with a roar, driving the blade into the beast's skull. The impact was thunderous, a spray of gore and shattered bone exploding across the sand. The monster shrieked and thrashed, slamming Alaric aside with its claw, but the ice sword remained buried deep in its head, freezing its brain from within.
Sylas seized the chance. He slid low, arrow already nocked, Converter blazing brighter than ever. He whispered, "Pierce the heavens…" before releasing a storm of arrows in rapid succession.
Each shaft carried a different element—wind, flame, lightning—until the barrage became a storm of elemental fury. Arrows sank deep into the monster's chest, stomach, throat, detonating in waves of fire and thunder. The beast convulsed, black blood spraying across the sands, soaking the gladiator pits in gore.
Still, it would not die.
It smashed its body against the Colosseum wall, shattering the ice around it, then lunged at Sylas. Its beak opened wide, ready to snap him in two.
A glow erupted beneath its chest.
Celestria, bloody and battered, slammed her staff into the ground. A glyph of molten fire blazed outward, encircling the beast in searing runes. She screamed with the last of her strength, "Burn, monster!"
The glyph erupted into a towering column of flame, a dragon of fire rising from the sands and swallowing the beast whole. It shrieked in agony, its body thrashing wildly as flesh sloughed off its bones.
And then—Alaric's ice surged again.
The fire dragon and ice storm collided together inside the monster, fire boiling its insides while ice froze its limbs solid. Cracks tore across its body, blood bursting from its seams.
Sylas, already above on a broken pillar, drew his final arrow—one crackling with every ounce of Converter energy he had left. The bow hummed with power, his mask hiding the blood dripping from his mouth.
"Fall."
He released.
The arrow screamed through the air like judgment itself. It pierced straight into the skull where Alaric's sword was still buried. For one breathless instant, all was still.
Then the beast's head erupted.
A geyser of blood, gore, and shattered bone painted the Colosseum crimson. The monster convulsed, legs twitching, before crashing into the sand with a quake so violent cracks split the arena floor.
Silence fell.
The crowd stared, stunned, at the mountain of mangled flesh that had once been their opponent.
Then the Colosseum roared.
The cries of victory were deafening. "SYLAS! CELESTRIA! ALARIC!" Chants thundered like war drums as roses, gold coins, and laurel crowns rained from the stands.
The three stood, broken and bloody but unbowed. Their armor cracked, their bodies trembling from exhaustion, but in their eyes burned something untouchable—hope, defiance, and unity.
They had survived.
The crowd hushed as the arena's sand began to glow red-hot. From the gates slithered not one, but many heads—seven in total, each attached to the same monstrous body. A Hydra, but this one was unlike the myths: its flesh was molten rock, its veins glowing with magma, its heads each dripping fire like liquid blood. The air shimmered with unbearable heat as its roar cracked the very walls.
"The Pyrebeast Hydra!" the announcer bellowed. "For every head severed, two shall rise!"
The fight was chaos from the first second.
The Hydra lunged in every direction, seven jaws spewing flame torrents across the arena. A rival team of six—a disciplined phalanx of shield bearers and spear converters—formed a defensive wall, shields glowing with Converter light. The first blast of flame melted their barrier like wax, but their leader roared, plunging his spear into the ground. Earth surged upward, forming stone bulwarks that held back the tide of fire.
Alaric dashed along a freshly risen ice ramp, driving his sword through one of the snapping jaws. With a roar, he cleaved the head off in an eruption of molten gore. But as the crowd screamed, two new heads erupted from the stump, both shrieking with fire-soaked rage.
"Damn it! It's just like the legends!" Alaric shouted.
Sylas fired arrow after arrow into the heads, one bursting with lightning, another detonating with concussive wind. One skull exploded into chunks—but again, two more rose, both smaller but faster.
"Then stop cutting!" Sylas cursed, dodging a snapping maw that nearly shredded his leg. "We need another plan!"
On the other side, the phalanx team wasn't so lucky. A blast of fire engulfed two warriors, their screams cut short as they melted into puddles of molten flesh. The survivors retaliated, their leader driving his earth-shaping spear through a head's eye, pinning it down before the others skewered it. Blood and magma sprayed—but again, two new heads sprouted. Their morale wavered.
Celestria flew overhead, her wings aflame. "I'll cauterize them!" She raised her staff, and an enormous vortex of flame spiraled down. She concentrated her Converter energy, shaping the fire into searing plasma hotter than the Hydra's own blood. When she cleaved through one neck with the blast, the wound sealed with glowing glass, preventing regrowth.
"It works!" she screamed, sweat dripping down her forehead.
"Then keep doing it!" Alaric roared, raising ice walls to redirect the beast's flames.
The phalanx team caught on, coordinating with her. They hacked through a neck and immediately blasted it with earth-fire Converter combos, turning the stump into hardened obsidian. Cheers erupted as the Hydra's regeneration slowed.
The Hydra roared furiously, thrashing with all its might. Its tail smashed into another team of assassins waiting on the far wall, crushing one instantly into pulp. The others retaliated with shadowy blades and poisoned daggers, climbing the Hydra's molten flesh to stab deep into its body. One assassin drove his dagger into the heart—but the molten blood boiled his flesh alive, and he fell screaming.
Alaric, Sylas, and Celestria pressed harder. With Sylas covering with lightning volleys, Alaric hacked neck after neck, while Celestria sealed the stumps with blazing heat. Slowly, one by one, the heads dwindled until only three remained.
With a final cry, all three heroes struck together
Alaric froze the Hydra's lower body solid.
Sylas shot a chain of arrows into its skulls, exploding them in arcs of lightning.
And Celestria unleashed a torrent of fire hot enough to melt its heart.
The Hydra collapsed, molten blood pouring across the arena, turning sand into rivers of glowing glass.
The crowd erupted in screams of awe and horror. Half the other teams were dead.
The three staggered, but they still stood.
The gates groaned again. This time, silence fell. The ground shook before the creature even emerged.
Then it came.
A massive Colossus, stitched together from corpses of men and beasts, towering nearly as high as the Colosseum walls. Its skin was pale and sickly, stitched seams leaking blood. From its chest jutted hundreds of arms, some clawed, some broken, all reaching and grasping. Its face was a grotesque mask of flesh, with three vertical mouths that screamed in unison.
The announcer barely found words: "The… Aberrant Colossus… a forbidden creation, born from shadow and flesh!"
The crowd screamed in both terror and exhilaration.
The monster's first step crushed one of the remaining teams instantly, their bodies splattering like insects beneath its foot. Another team scattered, hurling spears, axes, and Converter blasts, but the Colossus merely raised an arm—then dozens of extra arms shot outward like whips, tearing through warriors. Flesh and blood rained down as screams filled the arena.
Alaric swallowed hard. "This thing's not just strong—it's a slaughterhouse."
Sylas clenched his bow. "Then let's survive it."
The Colossus roared, its many mouths vomiting streams of black bile. The bile sizzled through the ground, melting stone and flesh alike. Warriors screamed as the liquid touched them, flesh sloughing from bone in grotesque heaps.
Celestria dove forward, wings blazing, firing meteors of flame into its chest. They exploded across its sewn flesh, ripping chunks away—but every wound only revealed more arms, clawing and screaming.
Sylas fired an explosive arrow into its eye, blood gushing out like a fountain. The Colossus shrieked and flailed, flattening another group of warriors against the wall with one massive swing. Their blood painted the stone in streaks of red.
Alaric charged forward, ice sword blazing cold. He hacked into one leg, freezing the flesh solid, then shattered it with a second strike. The Colossus stumbled but slammed its arms down, crushing the ice knight into the dirt. Alaric coughed blood, forcing himself up again.
Nearby, a rival team of three mages coordinated desperately, binding the beast with chains of light. For a moment, the Colossus slowed, shrieking as the chains bit into its flesh. But its arms tore them apart in seconds, and one mage was ripped in half by clawed hands, entrails spraying across the sands.
Sylas shouted, "We can't just cut it down—it'll keep moving! We need to hit its heart!"
"The chest cavity!" Celestria agreed, her eyes blazing. "I'll open it!"
She summoned every ounce of Converter energy, her body blazing like a star. With a cry, she unleashed a beam of concentrated fire that pierced straight into the Colossus's chest. Its flesh boiled away, revealing a grotesque, beating heart stitched with shadow.
Alaric roared, driving ice pillars upward, impaling the Colossus through its chest to hold it open. Sylas climbed a frozen spire, nocking his final arrow, Converter glowing white-hot.
"This is for everyone you crushed!" he bellowed.
He fired. The arrow plunged into the heart—then detonated in a cataclysmic blast of lightning, ice shards, and fire all at once.
The Colossus shrieked, its mouths howling in agony. The stitched body convulsed, splitting apart as arms fell limp and its stitched frame collapsed into a mountain of blood and viscera.
The arena floor was drowned in gore.
The crowd roared, both horrified and enthralled.
The three heroes stood, drenched in blood, panting, but victorious.
The Champion finally stepped forward from the shadows of the stands, his voice like thunder.
"Enough games. You've survived the trials." He raised his spear, fire licking its edge. His visor gleamed as he pointed it at the three.
"Now you fight me."
The gates slammed shut. The crowd went silent, thousands leaning forward in anticipation. The arena stank of blood, burnt flesh, and molten stone from the battles before. From the opposite end, the Champion emerged at last.
He was no beast—he was worse.
A man, yet more than a man. Towering, armored in obsidian plate engraved with runes glowing red, his helm shaped like a snarling demon. His weapon: a massive glaive, taller than Alaric, the blade serrated and drenched in blood from countless victims. The ground seemed to quake under his steps, his sheer presence commanding silence.
When he spoke, his voice carried like thunder:
"You have survived beasts. You have survived horrors. But here…" He raised his glaive, its edge dripping flame. "…you face death itself."
The crowd erupted in a frenzy, chanting his title: "CHAMPION! CHAMPION! CHAMPION!"
The three exchanged a glance. No words were needed.
Then the Champion charged.
He moved faster than any beast they'd faced. His glaive swung in an arc that split the air like a storm, flames trailing in its wake. Alaric barely blocked with his ice sword, the impact blasting him back into the arena wall. The stone cracked around him. Blood ran down his temple.
Sylas fired arrows in rapid succession, lightning-charged and wind-honed. The Champion deflected them with sweeps of his glaive, the arrows shattering against his armor. One slipped through, grazing his side—but he didn't flinch.
Celestria dove from above, staff blazing with fire. She unleashed a torrent of flame, engulfing the Champion. For a moment, he vanished in the blaze. The crowd roared.
But then—he walked through it. Slowly. His armor glowed red, molten heat dripping from its edges, but he didn't falter. With a roar, he swung his glaive upward. A wave of fire and force blasted Celestria out of the sky. She hit the ground hard, coughing blood, wings smoldering.
"Get up!" Alaric roared, charging back in. He summoned ice pillars to bind the Champion's legs. For a heartbeat, the behemoth slowed. Alaric struck, blade of frost slashing across his chest. Sparks flew, blood spattered—but shallow.
The Champion grinned beneath his helm. "Good. You bleed me. But you will drown in yours."
He smashed the ice apart, backhanding Alaric across the jaw. Teeth shattered. Alaric crumpled, spitting red onto the sand.
Sylas darted in and out, loosing arrow after arrow. One struck the Champion's knee joint, forcing him to stumble. Another exploded against his helm, knocking him sideways.
Celestria seized the chance. She rose again, wings aflame, and screamed as she brought down a meteor of Converter fire. The sky itself seemed to split as the blazing sphere slammed into the Champion.
The arena shook. Dust and flame swallowed him whole.
When the smoke cleared… the Champion still stood. His armor cracked and smoking, blood dripping from one arm. But he laughed. "Yes… YES! More!"
He swung his glaive in a great circle. Fire erupted in every direction. Spectators screamed as the front rows of the crowd were scorched alive, their bodies turning to ash in seconds.
The three regrouped, panting, bloodied.
"We can't match him head-on," Sylas growled, clutching his bleeding arm. "We need to break him down piece by piece."
"Then we take his weapon," Alaric said, wiping blood from his mouth. "If he keeps that glaive, we're already dead."
They moved as one. Alaric charged from the front, ice sword clashing with flaming glaive in a blinding spray of sparks. Each impact cracked stone, shattering the ground.
Celestria circled behind, pouring Converter energy into her staff. Flames condensed into a burning spear of pure plasma. She hurled it at the Champion's weapon.
At the same moment, Sylas fired three arrows at once—one of lightning, one of wind, one of raw kinetic force.
The glaive took the blows. The steel screamed. Runes flickered.
With a roar, Alaric brought his frostblade down in a two-handed strike. The glaive cracked—then shattered in half.
The crowd gasped.
The Champion froze. Then, slowly, he tossed aside the broken shaft.
"…Good." His voice was colder now, darker. "You've forced me to stop holding back."
He raised his hands. His own blood poured from the cracks in his armor, pooling into the air, shaping itself into a new weapon: a blade of living crimson, serrated and dripping gore.
The Champion lunged.
Blood for Blood
The crimson blade cut through the air, faster than before. It slashed across Alaric's chest, carving a deep gouge. Blood sprayed, staining the sand.
Sylas shot an arrow into the Champion's throat. The arrow sank deep, blood spurting—but the Champion simply pulled it out and swallowed it, wounds closing with dark regeneration.
"Gods…" Celestria whispered. "He heals with blood."
The Champion laughed, his helm dripping with gore. He cleaved upward, severing one of Celestria's wings. She screamed, crashing into the dirt, her body twitching. Blood gushed, staining the sand black.
"CELESTRIA!" Alaric roared, charging in a frenzy. He swung wildly, sword of ice biting into flesh, carving through armor, hacking at shoulder and thigh. Chunks of meat and blood flew. The Champion staggered—then drove his blade straight through Alaric's stomach.
The crowd gasped. Blood poured from Alaric's mouth. Still, he grabbed the Champion's arm, refusing to let go. "Sylas—NOW!"
Sylas nocked his last Converter arrow. The shaft glowed white, pure energy humming through it. His vision blurred from blood loss, but he steadied his aim.
Celestria, barely conscious, lifted her staff one final time, pouring her fire into the arrow, igniting it into a blazing star.
"FOR ALL OF US!" Sylas roared.
The arrow streaked like a comet, ripping through the Champion's helm, exploding out the back of his skull in a fountain of gore. His head erupted in fire, bone, and brain.
The Champion dropped his blade. He staggered… then fell to his knees. His helm clattered into the dirt. His body toppled forward, blood gushing in rivers.
Silence.
Then the arena erupted in screams, the crowd chanting the victors' names.
The three heroes lay broken, drenched in blood—some theirs, most the Champion's.
Alaric coughed, clutching his stomach wound. "Still alive… barely."
Sylas collapsed beside him, bow splintered, fingers bleeding. "We… we killed him."
Celestria, sobbing in pain, dragged herself close, placing her hand on theirs. "Together."
Above them, the sun broke through the smoky haze. The arena floor was painted red with gore, the Champion's corpse steaming in the center.
And the world would remember this day forever.
The blood-soaked sand began to stir. The Champion's body, nothing but charred ash and shattered armor, reformed in crackling embers. Slowly, the hulking figure rose again, helm re-forging itself in flame.
The crowd gasped in awe and terror.
But the Champion only laughed, voice deep and booming. "You endured… you broke me… and yet stood unbroken yourselves." His molten gaze swept over the three battered warriors.
He planted his glaive into the ground, leaning on it like a throne. "I name you victors. You have my respect… and Rome has new legends."
Then, with a final nod, his body dissolved back into glowing ash, scattering into the air.
The arena roared in thunderous applause.