REBIRTH OF A WARRIOR

Chapter 4

After being pushed off the wagon by a guard, I had fallen face-first to the ground.I had tried to get up, spitting the dust out of my mouth, but another guard had me flattened out again.I had attempted to get back up, but a series of powerful kicks had slammed into my side, causing me to collapse into a ball in the sand.I had to repeatedly gasp to regain my breath because it had been difficult to breathe.Before attempting to get back up, I had looked up at my oppressor's face.Standing with his feet shoulder-width apart, he did not appear to be armed.He smiled down at me.The smile that was spread across it did not reach his eyes, and his face had the appearance of worn, cracked leather.

I'll demonstrate to you what it means to be a slave, boy!I think your pretty face will be the first thing I teach you about!"

He had jerked my head up and reached down with one hand to grab my hair.I knew he was going to smash his knee into my nose when he extended his right leg behind him.I threw myself forward at his support leg rather than resisting the grip on my hair as he pulled his knee back.He lost his balance, grunted in surprise, and rolled over backwards to avoid me.

In an effort to catch himself as he fell, he had let go of my hair.I had struggled to get to my feet after he had slammed into the ground hard, realizing that I had probably just made things even worse for myself.He had surprised everyone by sitting there in the sand for a while before getting up and laughing.In anticipation of him lunging at me like a vulture, I had looked at him with suspicion.

"He still has spirit in him!Cato, take him to the keep and make sure he gets cut but not marked as a fighter.That way, he will fight better.

I was forced into the fighting school after being grabbed from behind by strong hands.The only thing that made it comfortable was that the inside was cooler than the outside.

A skylight in the ceiling above us let in some light, so I was pushed against the wall of a room.The iron rings that protruded from the wall above us held me and the others who had come along with me in handcuffs.I had observed as the slave that was closest to me was being held out from the wall by two muscular guards.From a fire that had been lit in the middle of the room, a third guard stood up.He had a hot knife and a hot poker in both of his hands.

When the branding rod was pressed into the back of the slave's left shoulder, I could still see how his eyes had rolled back into his head and he had screamed.I wanted to vomit because of the burning flesh's odor and sizzle.However, it was not over.

The man with the knife returned the brand poker to the fire while the two guards pushed the wailing slave back against the wall and spread his legs.After that, with a knife in his hand, he turned toward the slave, tore the slave's pants down, cut off the slave's seed sac, tossing it to the side, and then held the hot knife to the wound to cauterize the flesh.

When the slave realized what had happened to him and felt the pain, he almost jerked out of the two big men's grasp.I had thrown up all over myself at the time, and I had tried desperately to drown out the man's hysterical cries of loss and pain.

The procedure was repeated down the line one at a time until they reached me.While the wailing screams of the other slaves continued to surround me in the room, I had been crying my eyes out and breaking down in tears of fear and anticipation of pain.

The sensation of the hot poker being ground into the back of my shoulder could not have been anticipated in any way.I had screamed and wept in vain in an attempt to escape this hellish place, but no one came.As the hot knife's edge gripped my sac and pressed against it, I felt my pants being ripped down and bit my lip.I had cried hard for a while from the anticipated burning pain and the loss of my male identity.

As my bag's grip was released, the knife had remained where it was.As I looked around, I heard a strange sound after opening my eyes, which were blurry from the tears that were pouring out of them.Even the men who were holding me were laughing!as if everything was a big prank!

The knife-wielding man stopped laughing and retracted it.I closed my eyes because I felt shamed by the guards and had heard them leave the room laughing.

Being forced to stand there naked and listen to the cries and whimpers of the others in such a dark dungeon was the worst night of my life.

My own humiliation over what had happened, the burning pain in my shoulder, and the pitiful cries of the other slave threatened to make me crazy.And I suppose it had in some ways.

From that point on, my one and only lifelong desire was to take revenge and regain control of my own destiny.

Months had become years, and months had become weeks.Because there could be no other explanation for how I had been saved so many times other than a Divine one, I pondered the reason why the Great Creator, to whom my mother had prayed, kept me alive.My survival and another day in the arena in front of my adoring crowds were always ensured by an excessive number of seemingly coincidental events.They referred to me as Zeventhal, which means "Storm Maker" in Zoarinian.

In the arena world, life expectancy was violently short on average.Because I had already lived and fought in the arena for nearly nine years, I was an exception to that.That's how long it took for the chance to get away.

I had accomplished the most with the time and resources I had been given over time.I had mastered dozens of fighting techniques and weapon skills.But my friendship with the men around me was the most important thing.

We were all aware that our masters' whims could cause us to perish from each other's hands in the same way that a fighter from a rival school could.Therefore, why not be friends and offer each other as much assistance as we can to improve these brief, difficult days?When I was forced to fight my friends, we did so in a dignified manner, not taking responsibility for either of our deaths unless it was required by the crowd or our masters.

My response to them was that they hadn't been there, so what did they know about it? It's possible that no one would comprehend how someone could fight with a friend to the death.I had learned everything I could about war tactics in addition to fighting skills.I even talked about the virtues and lessons to be learned from the literary works of wisdom of our time, which I had never read before but which many people who were thrown into arena dungeons did.

Every day, we wished, fantasized, and planned for the chance to regain our freedom and exact vengeance on our captors, but freedom eluded us.Then we got a lucky break one day.

It was the festival of the moon goddess, the city of Carsea's patron god.The festival was going to have games of epic proportions.Attendance was planned for each of the six Rings of Hath Zoarinian governors.

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the empire, and the best entertainment options would be required.We were mocked with glee by our handlers because of the unique challenge we would face the following day in the arena.The spectacle was supposed to go far beyond the norm, according to all accounts.The fighters from Rauin would be the first to confront this new level of crowd entertainment.

The night went by either too quickly or too slowly, as it always does before a fight.As I looked through the bars of the door that led to the vast arena, it had been lightly raining.

A little over forty Rauin fighters waited impatiently in the middle of the arena as rain fell from their helmets, leaving moisture stains on their armor-clad bodies.Normally, the crowd's mood would have been affected by the rain, but not today.They were eagerly anticipating the start of something special that had been promised to them today.

The enraged, irrational screams of an animal I had only heard of but had never seen suddenly drowned out the crowd's noise.Three large bull elephants from the southern lands of Kharta rushed into the arena after the big doors at the other end of the arena were suddenly opened.They frantically searched for something on which to unleash their ferocious aggression, enraged and driven mad by their handlers' spear attacks on them.Unfortunately, the men of Rauin were the only available prey.

I had grimly observed each man being pursued by the enraged beasts one after the other.Due to their mistreatment by their handlers, the elephants were inconsolable with rage and wanted to kill anything on two legs.Even though the other fighters with me had turned away from the horror, I had continued to watch the spectacle because I knew that they would soon be out there.

Some fighters were crushed by the beasts' heavy feet, while others were thrown across the arena and crushed violently into the high walls by being caught by their swinging tusks.Soon, the Rauin men were crushed to a bloody pulp.The crowd had yearned for even more of this new level of violent entertainment, and I would make them regret it because they had not satisfied their bloodlust.I had seen the greatest opportunity for a mass escape I had ever seen, as well as the ideal distraction needed to successfully escape, because their desire to see our blood spilled.