Kane rolled a tooth between his pointer finger and thumb. It was a molar, from his last opponent. He'd swiped it from the dirt while he was leaving the arena after winning the match. As the tooth rolled across his finger, so did Kane's mind. Why was he here? Why did he keep trying so hard to win? His hopeless struggle was the definition of vanity. His victories were meaningless. Sooner or later, he'd encounter an opponent he couldn't beat. Then he'd be the same as everyone else he'd fought. Not only dead but forgotten.
Soon he'd be entering the arena again. Mere moments from the next fight for his life, and all he could think was, why? A tap on his shoulder jolted him from the clouds. It was a soldier. His body clad in leather armor, and head covered by a gold colored galea. In his left hand he held a spear, who's butt rested on the ground. "It's time." He said firmly.
Kane nodded, reality coming back into focus. He began to walk forward down the dim corridor, lit only by the lines of torches on either side of the red stone walls. He rolled his neck and shoulders as he approached the light at the end of the corridor. When he stepped into the light, he could feel the warmth of the noon sun on his bare skin. The roars of the crowd in the coliseum boomed thorough the amphitheater. Kane, no matter how many times he fought, would never get used to how loud the spectators were.
Soldiers walked towards him. Four of them, two on either side. One was holding a custom-made armored sleeve, another held a one-handed short sword, and each of them had another soldier with a spear following them. The two on Kane's left reached him first. The one holding the sleeve began to fit it on Kane's arm while the other watched him intently. Then the two on his right arrived. After the sleeve was properly fitted on his arm, Kane turned, reached out with his right hand, and grabbed the short sword from the soldier. He gave the man a thankful nod as he did so.
The four soldiers stepped back, and Kane redirected his attention across the sandy battlegrounds to where his opponent stood. He was a tall, bearded man with muscles that looked as if they were about to burst. He was dressed the same as Kane, wearing a pair of cloth half-pants and a pair of sandals. In each of the man's hands he held dual bladed axes.
The two of them faced each other for quite a while, until the spectators had quieted enough for one man's voice to be heard. The voice echoed through the coliseum, "Let the competition commence!"
Just like it had been for every "competition" prior, that was the signal for Kane to begin the fight for his life. Kane bent his knees, placing one foot in front of the other. He held his blade up in a comfortable position behind his body, and his armored arm in front of him defensively. His opponent didn't bother taking a combative position before launching himself forward with tremendous speed. He closed the distance between himself and Kane in a matter of seconds. There was little time to process before the blade of an axe came flying down between Kane's eyes.
He took a step back and the axe whiffed passed his face. There wasn't a pause for even a moment in his opponent, the man slashed wildly with his other axe. Kane was quick to sidestep and again his opponent struck nothing but air. With his opponent now facing away from him, Kane saw his opportunity. His balance was wrong to strike with his blade, so he placed a quick strike from his armor-clad fist on his opponent's face. His opponent was unfazed, despite it leaving a bloody gash on his cheek. He was so unfazed that Kane found himself having to back step, duck and otherwise dodge another series of wild slashes.
Kane's breath was heavy as he continued to avoid the unpredictable strikes of his opponent. He was getting rather tired of being defensive, so he found his footing and made a move. He thrust the tip of his blade toward the man's neck but was viciously swatted away by the slash of an axe. Kane lost his balance. His opponent took advantage and slammed his body into Kane's. The two warriors collapsed to the ground, Kane's blade skidding away from him. His opponent raised an axe high above his head and gave Kane a triumphant sneer as he paused for a moment with his axe at its apex.
This is it. Kane thought as he stared into the sunlight glinting off the blade of the axe. This was the end. Kane couldn't understand why the thought of his end filled him with such a bitter feeling. He wasn't fighting for anything noble. Truthfully, he wasn't fighting for anything at all. At least, not that he could remember. Maybe long ago, when he'd first arrived to compete in these battles, he'd had a reason. Now, that reason, whatever it may have been, had long faded to black. Now, he had nothing. No purpose. No will. Yet, despite this, the bitterness remained.
His opponent brought down his axe with all his might but was abruptly stopped by Kane. He had grabbed his opponent's wrist mid-swing. There was an uproar from the stands.
"I want to live." A voice in Kane's mind said faintly.
The opponent shifted his weight and raised his other axe into the air pausing for a moment at its apex--just like he had before--, then swinging down with his full might. Kane, again, caught him by the wrist. A feat of strength and precision that should have been impossible.
The voice echoed in Kane's mind again, "I want to live."
The opponent began pushing his full weight down against Kane, but his strength persisted. Although, Kane's muscles were beginning to tire. In one desperate movement, Kane threw all his weight into tossing his opponent to the side.
He was free! Kane scrambled to his feet, and quickly reequipped his sword. He stared at his opponent as the man got to his feet. "I want to live." The voice said once again.
His opponent let out a deep yell as he charged at Kane. Kane waited patiently for his opponent to enter his range. The voice remained persistent, repeating its words again and again, "I want to live. I want to live. I want to live."
Once he was in range, Kane thrust his blade towards his opponent's chest, and it plunged into the man's flesh. The man paused before falling to his knees, then slamming to the ground with his face in the dirt when Kane removed his weapon. Blood trickled from the opponent's mouth, dripping onto the sandy ground and staining it the eerie red of blood.
The eight soldiers in the stadium made their way to their respective combatants. Two of them grabbed the fell opponent by his legs and began dragging him away. Two more, each wielding a spear, followed closely behind.
The two soldiers from earlier took back the weapons they had given Kane, and the other two handed him a shirt before they escorted him out of the . Kane won. He'd survived one more battle for his life. But, what for? Why was he still here? He had nothing to fight for, and yet he remained in the same place, training day by day by day, just to risk it all in the arena at the end of every week. What was he doing?
His mind filled with a tsunami of existential questions; Kane left. He didn't go home first. He didn't stop on the way out of the city. He didn't take anything but the clothes on his back. He just left...
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