After Helios watched the man leave the building, the air became still as whispers began to spread.
He sat with Bow at their table, quietly eating the food they ordered, but his ears sharpened on the chatter around them.
From the corner of the room, a group of men hunched over their drinks, speaking in low voices.
"It's him again. Halo."
"Yeah, I heard about him. He's a gladiator, right?"
"They say he moves so fast that when he strikes it makes the sound of thunder."
"His last match was against Grayson the Iron Fist. Didn't just decapitate him. Blew a hole straight through his chest just to prove he was stronger."
"Aw man… I can respect the decapitation. But that kind of showing off? That's too much."
Another man leaned in, his voice shaky.
"Nah… that's what makes him terrifying. He doesn't just win. He humiliates. Every fighter who's gone against him has left in pieces. Some don't leave at all."
The table grew quiet after that. The kind of silence that carried weight.
Bow smirked and leaned back in his chair, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
"Thunder, huh? Sounds like this guy thinks he's Dolorion the god of thunder or something."
Helios didn't smile.
His eyes remained fixed on the door Halo had walked out of.
"Arrogance like that… it always leaves an opening."
Bow glanced at him sideways, raising a brow.
"You already sizing him up?"
Helios set his fork down and leaned back, arms crossed.
"I don't need to. Men like him always show their weakness eventually."
The room still buzzed with nervous gossip, but for Helios, the silence between each word spoke louder.
The next day they returned to the training grounds.
Helios and Bow's days under the Colosseum's circuit system began harshly.
The training grounds were a blur of sweat, steel, and shouting. Every dawn, dozens of fresh gladiators were herded onto the dirt floor and forced to spar under the watchful eyes of overseers. Wooden swords and weighted armor dulled their movements, but that was the point. Break them down. Rebuild them into warriors fit for the arena.
Bow thrived.
The very first time he squared off against another trainee, his grin widened as he slammed into the man shoulder first before hammering him into the ground.
His Brute Force style did not rely on technique so much as raw dominance. Every strike he threw rattled bones.
Overseers whispered approval.
The other gladiators began avoiding his side of the training pit.
Helios, however, walked a harder path.
He was not struggling. No one could land cleanly on him thanks to his sharp instincts. But adapting his clean swordsmanship to the messy, unpredictable styles of mercenaries, barbarians, and desperate men proved difficult.
He fought to learn, not just to win.
And that sometimes made him look slower than the others.
His swordmaster's discipline clashed with the chaos of the Colosseum.
Bow would often tease him as they rested against the stone walls after training.
"C'mon, Helios. You're moving like you're in some noble's duel. Out here? It's blood and grit. You can't be pretty when the crowd's hungry."
Helios would only smirk faintly.
"Better to be precise than reckless. Even beasts bleed if you know where to strike."
But while they sweated in training, Halo basked in glory.
They caught glimpses of him in the main arena whenever the overseers dragged the trainees up to watch.
Halo didn't just win.
He dismantled his opponents.
His movements were so fast they seemed to snap the air, each strike punctuated by a crack like thunder.
Shields shattered.
Swords were knocked from hands before anyone realized he had moved.
And then came the arrogance.
He would lean on his blade, smirking at the crowd as his defeated opponents bled out.
Sometimes he would deliberately wound a man, circle him, and wait. Daring the poor soul to crawl to their feet before finishing them with a single blur of motion.
The crowd cheered because they had to.
But the tone was off.
Awe mixed with unease.
Respect was absent.
One evening, after another brutal display, Bow spat in the sand.
"Guy's fast, I'll give him that… but he's a vulture. Doesn't fight to prove strength. He fights to humiliate."
Helios kept his arms folded, eyes sharp.
He didn't nod.
He didn't argue.
He simply watched Halo's retreating figure as the thunder-gladiator raised his arms to the crowd.
After days of grueling training, the moment had finally come.
Helios sat with Bow in the waiting chamber beneath the Colosseum.
The roar of the crowd above echoed faintly through the stone walls.
A reminder of the spectacle about to unfold.
Bow leaned back in his chair, calmly sipping from a mug of ale.
The heavy doors creaked open.
Halo stepped inside.
His presence drew attention instantly. Arrogance practically radiated off him.
He sneered when his eyes landed on Helios.
"Oh, it's you… the insignificant lifeform who had the audacity to bump into me."
Helios glanced up, unimpressed.
"I don't know what your problem is, but you should knock it off. Life has a funny way of humbling people like you."
Halo tilted his head, feigning confusion, though his eyes narrowed with disdain.
"And what exactly are you implying?"
Helios stood, his posture straight and calm, the faintest smirk on his lips.
"Karma has a way of finding everyone. You won't be an exception."
Halo stepped closer, his confidence unshaken.
"Are you saying you'll be the one to put me in my place? Don't make me laugh. I will be the strongest being in all existence."
Helios met his glare without flinching.
"No. You'll be the third… right behind Bow and me."
The tension between them thickened. Their words were like blades clashing in the silence.
They bickered back and forth, sparks of rivalry igniting.
Bow leaned in his chair nearby, amused, sipping his ale without a care.
Then the bell rang.
CLANG.
The massive sound echoed throughout the Colosseum.
A booming voice followed.
"HELIOS! REPORT TO THE ARENA!"
Helios adjusted his grip on his father's sword, eyes never leaving Halo.
"You better watch closely, Halo. Who knows. Maybe you'll learn something that saves you from me."
Halo smirked, folding his arms.
"You're nothing but a fool."
Helios didn't reply.
He turned and stepped toward the doors as they creaked open to the blinding light of the Colosseum.
The thunder of the crowd crashed over him like a wave.
It was his time to shine.
The heavy gates at the far end of the Colosseum rumbled open with a screech of iron.
Dust poured from the shadows as a figure emerged, dragging two jagged axes behind him.
His bare chest was smeared with blood.
Not paint.
Not decoration.
The remnants of his last victim.
The overseer's voice boomed across the arena.
"Entering the Pit of Honor… KRAVEN THE BLOODHOUND!"
The crowd erupted.
Men pounded the rails.
Women screamed his name.
Children shrank back into their parents' arms.
Kraven fed on the noise.
He lifted his axes high and slammed them together with a clang that echoed like a bell.
His head jerked around wildly as if searching for prey.
Then he threw back his head and howled.
A guttural, animalistic roar that silenced even the loudest cheers.
His reputation was clear.
Kraven did not fight for honor.
He fought to devour.
To tear.
To leave nothing but broken bodies in the sand.
He stalked forward, his grin feral.
When he finally spotted Helios standing across the pit, calm and unshaken, he licked his lips like a wolf sighting fresh meat.
"Another lamb for the slaughter," he growled.
The crowd roared again.
Helios cracked his knuckles.
"Well, aren't you excited? You've got your tongue out like a dog. I suggest putting it back in your mouth."
Kraven dragged his tongue across the edge of his axes.
"This is what the Colosseum does, boy… it takes men and grinds them into beasts. Out there, the crowd doesn't cheer for honor or skill. They cheer for blood. For screams. For the break of bone."
He grinned wider.
"And me? I give them what they want."
Helios rested his hand on the hilt of his father's sword.
"No. The arena doesn't shape me. I shape it."
The overseer slammed the blocks together.
Kraven lunged.
Too slow.
In a single motion Helios drew his blade.
Steel whispered.
Then sang.
His strike met flesh at the elbow.
Kraven's arm separated cleanly.
Blood sprayed across the sand.
Kraven stumbled back screaming.
Helios slid the blade back into its sheath.
"What happened?" Helios asked calmly.
"A moment ago your eyes were full of pride."
The severed arm fell.
Helios caught it.
Kraven clawed backward.
"STAY AWAY FROM ME!"
Kraven hurled his axe.
Helios tilted his head just enough for it to pass.
Then he threw the severed arm like a spear.
It punched through Kraven's chest.
"…and arrogance," Helios finished.
Kraven twitched once.
Then stilled.
Silence fell over the Colosseum.
Then the roar came.
"Victory. Number 107!"
Helios walked away without looking back.
Bow smirked when he met him in the tunnel.
"Pretty elegant. Though I didn't think you'd throw the guy's arm through his chest. That's cold."
Helios shrugged.
"He chose how he wanted to be remembered."
High above the arena, Halo watched from a shadowed balcony.
He scoffed.
"Elegant… but nothing special. Against me he wouldn't last three strikes."
A cloaked figure beside him spoke quietly.
"Do not be so quick to dismiss him."
Halo's jaw tightened.
"I am destined to be the strongest."
The voice replied coldly.
"Arrogance blinds. Do not disappoint."
Halo tightened his grip on his goblet.
"If he climbs this high… I'll remind him where he belongs."
The cloaked figure said nothing.
Only watched the empty arena.
As if they already knew what was coming.