Chapter 9 – Gladiator Arena
The world shifted in a blink.
Sand. Heat. Roaring thunder that was not the sky but people—tens of thousands of voices blending into a monstrous sound that pressed against Elara's skull.
She staggered as she materialized, boots sinking slightly into hot, grainy earth. The air reeked of iron and sweat. Her eyes darted upward. High walls encircled her, so tall they might as well have been cliffs, etched with strange runes that pulsed faintly.
Above the walls, the stands stretched into infinity. Nobles wrapped in silk reclined on cushioned seats, jeweled goblets glittering in their hands. Beside them, ragged peasants screamed with the same wild hunger, their throats raw from cheering. The sound fused into a single command that rolled across the arena like thunder:
"Fight! Fight! Fight!"
Elara's chest tightened. This wasn't some hollow illusion. It felt real—every grain of sand, every bead of sweat sliding down her temple, the very vibration of the crowd's roar in her ribs.
And then the system spoke.
[Life Simulation Loaded: Gladiator Path – Arena of Blood and Honor]
[Objective: Survive three rounds against chosen opponents. Rewards scale with performance.]
Her weapon materialized in her hand with a shimmer of pale blue light. A short gladius—its grip leather-wrapped, blade balanced, sharp enough to catch the sunlight. A round wooden shield appeared on her other arm. She exhaled shakily, the weight of both grounding her.
A horn blasted.
The first gate creaked open, metal grinding stone. From its shadows emerged a massive brute, bare-chested but armored in scars. A spiked mace swung in his hand, the size of Elara's head. His face twisted in a snarl as the crowd roared his name.
"Braccus! Braccus!"
Elara's pulse hammered. Her mind screamed to run, but there was nowhere to go. The brute bellowed and charged, sand spraying behind his feet.
Instinct screamed louder—duck!
She rolled aside just as the mace slammed down, exploding the ground where she'd stood. The shockwave rattled her bones. Her shield would splinter if she blocked that head-on.
She tightened her grip on the gladius. The brute swung again. She sidestepped, parried, her blade glancing uselessly off his scarred forearm. His grin widened.
[Combat Instinct Activated – Archive Memory: 3rd Century Gladiator]
Knowledge flooded her body—stances, angles, where to aim. She pivoted, slashed under his ribs, steel biting flesh. Braccus roared, staggering. He swung wildly; she ducked under, drove the gladius into his side. His knees buckled, and with a final shove, he collapsed face-first into the sand.
The arena erupted. Bloodlust, not horror, painted the air.
Elara's chest heaved. Her first kill in this path… and it felt terrifyingly natural.
Round Two
The horn blared again. Two gates swung open this time. Out stepped twins, lean and lethal, curved blades glinting in their hands. They moved as one, circling like predators.
"Pretty little lamb," one sneered, voice thick with accent.
"Pretty little corpse," the other echoed, grinning.
They lunged.
Steel clashed as Elara barely intercepted a strike with her shield. Sparks flew, her arm screaming with the force. The second blade whistled toward her neck—she ducked, rolled, sand filling her mouth.
[Adaptive Skill Unlocked: Arena Reflex – reaction speed increased by 20%]
Her eyes widened as the world slowed just enough. She twisted, parried one twin's slash, elbowed his ribs, then kicked him back. The other came from behind—her body moved before thought, shield snapping backward into his jaw with a crack.
The crowd roared. Blood trickled from her lip. Sweat stung her eyes.
She baited them closer, then spun suddenly, thrusting low. Her blade pierced one twin's throat. He choked, gurgled, collapsed. The other screamed in rage, charging blindly. Elara sidestepped, caught his arm, and used his own momentum to drive his blade into his chest.
He fell beside his brother, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing.
The stands shook with chants: "Elara! Elara!"
Her stomach churned. They weren't cheering her survival. They were cheering the kill.
Round Three
The third gate opened with a slow, grinding groan.
Chains rattled. The ground trembled beneath heavy footsteps. From the darkness emerged a colossus clad in bronze armor, every plate dented from countless battles. His massive battle axe gleamed wickedly in the sun. The arena champion.
The crowd fell into reverent silence. Then one voice began to chant. Another joined. Soon, the entire coliseum thundered with a name Elara didn't know but felt deep in her bones:
"Morthar! Morthar! Morthar!"
Her blood froze.
[Final Round Initiated: Arena Champion]
[Warning: Survival chance – 23%]
Morthar raised his axe and brought it down with bone-shaking force. Elara blocked instinctively. Her shield shattered, splinters embedding in her arm. Pain lanced through her body.
She staggered back. He advanced, each step heavy as doom.
"Die small one," his voice rumbled from within his helmet, distorted like a beast's growl.
He swung again. Elara dove aside, sand exploding. She scrambled to her feet, every nerve screaming. His axe cleaved the air inches from her neck. One hit—just one—and she'd be nothing but broken meat on the sand.
Think, Elara. Think.
Her eyes darted across the battlefield. There—half-buried in the sand—a broken spear, snapped in half but with one end still jagged and sharp.
She ran.
The crowd howled, sensing desperation. Morthar roared, charging after her. She snatched the spear, whirled, and with every ounce of strength, baited him into another downward strike.
At the last instant, she rolled forward, the axe slamming into the earth. She thrust the spear upward, straight into the small gap under his chestplate.
The point punched through armor, through flesh. Morthar's roar turned into a strangled gasp. He dropped his axe, staggered, and fell to his knees.
The giant collapsed face-first into the sand.
For one heartbeat, silence blanketed the arena.
Then the crowd erupted, louder than thunder.
System Reward
The illusion flickered as the system spoke, calm in contrast to the chaos.
[Gladiator Trial Complete]
[Reward: Title – Arena Survivor]
[Skill: Weapon Mastery (Basic)]
[New Path Unlocked: Gladiator Champion – Available at Chapter 13]
The walls, the crowd, the sand—all began dissolving into shimmering fragments. Elara fell to her knees, drenched in blood and sweat, trembling not from weakness but from realization.
She had killed. Not once, not twice, but again and again. The Archive wasn't just testing her.
It was forging her.
And the system would never let her go back.