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GLADIATOR
Chapter 3:Bonds of the Arena
Lucius stood in the corridor of the arena, listening to the low hum of the waiting crowd. The air was thick with dust and the familiar scent of iron, sweat, and blood, a mixture of smell he became used to over the past months.
Outside, the chant of “Bestia! Bestia!” as the Crowed ran mad in excitement.
He was the joy of the people, his Victories giave rise to his reputation ‘bestia’ . Every match, he reminded himself-survival. Survival by any means necessary.
It wasn’t that he loved the arena or the cheers. He bore it all with quietly, his stoic mask hiding the memories, anger and trauma. It was his way of coping…
Beside him, Marcus prepared his armor, strapping on his leather chest plate and checking the condition of his sword.
Lucius noticed the man’s movements were slower, his breath a little heavier. Age was beginning to take its toll on Marcus.
Marcus caught Lucius watching him and gave a tired grin. “Don’t worry, Bestia. I’m not finished yet.”
Lucius gave a short nod. Words weren’t needed, he respected Marcus, both as a fighter and a mentor. Marcus had taught him how to temper his rage, how to use his strength effectively, and how to read his opponents with an unspoken bond built on the arena.
