Retvik closed his eyes as he flicked a small medallion between his fingers. It was his lucky charm, a small engraving of the symbol of the Panelix, embedded in an old slice of battered metal, made for him a long time ago. Normally, Retvik felt like he didn’t need luck, he relied on his own skill and power. But today, things felt unusual, enough for him to want some extra luck on his side.
“You want me to fight a colossal Thragger, alone.”
“Yes. There has been huge demand for this. Especially since…”
“I get it…” Retvik grunted. “How large of a Thragger are we talking about?”
The Raptor gestured towards the nearby window, where a massive crate was being lowered into the main arena. Retvik glanced over, then shuddered, knowing the answer to his question. He took off the gold-plated helmet he was wearing and went for a slightly better reinforced plasti-steel one, with added spikes on it.
“I was hoping for an… easier match.”
“You get what you are given.”
“I gathered…” Retvik frowned, now adjusting the rest of his armour, making sure to add some spiked pauldrons. “And you want me to use traditional Temthan weaponry. Not my Lightedge.”
“Yes. The crowd is packed full of them today and they want a… collective revenge on Thraggers, based on what happened to that poor village. So I booked the largest Thragger possible.”
“And gave it to me. Someone who is clearly not a Temthan.”
“You are complaining a lot today, Lightbearer. Is something wrong?”
Retvik sighed. “I have… a lot on my mind.”
“Well,” the Raptor scoffed. “Maybe some mindless bloodshed will help you with that. Be as bloody and brutal as you please. The crowd expects a blood bath. Even if it means your blood all over the arena.”
With a wave of her arm, the Raptor spun around and left, leaving Retvik on his own. Feeling slightly uncertain, Retvik glanced at the wall of weapons, then grabbed a longsword, a small, circular shield and several curved daggers. He tucked the daggers into his belt, then tied his medallion around a piece of fabric on the edge of the wrap he was wearing over his stomach armour.
Outside, the arena was still being set up. This gave Retvik some time to reflect. As he ran his claws across the medallion, he couldn’t help but think back to his time as a young Rethan, back before…
Well, if he had never known who his family really was, he would have been fine. Most Rethavok only spent a few weeks with their mothers before being taken away to be raised in collective growth centres. Unusually, Retvik was one of three triplets, apparently the middle sibling, although no one ever confirmed this. But there were never supposed to be triplets.
The problem was, Retvik was part of the Rethianos Lineage. The Family of Dawn. The purest bloodline in all of Rethan society, a genetic experiment that had been running for nearly two thousand years. Normally, there would only ever be two Rethianoi in each generation, and only one would go on to have kids. Except these triplets had appeared out of nowhere. One of them had to go. When he, his elder brother Rethais and his younger brother Relkir had all discovered this, it became an arms race as to which of the three was the strongest, and which of them was the weakest. Rethais had excelled in pretty much everything, and quickly proved himself to be above his siblings.
Relkir on the other hand was skinny and physically weak. Insanely intelligent, but Rethavok always preferred strength above all else. Retvik was certainly strong, he’d spent his whole life proving that. But he was only of average intelligence, and he had grown to respect his younger brother’s genius. So, when they were told that one of them would have to be… killed, to keep the bloodline pure, Retvik ended up stepping forward. To him, it was an obvious choice. To kill someone who only offered brawn, or to destroy what was potentially the greatest mind in modern history.
Honesty and self-sacrifice had saved Retvik. Instead of killing him at the age of 18, Retvik was instead sent off into exile, never allowed to live in Rethan territories. Sure, he had made a name of himself here in the Great Arena, but it was not Rethavok who cheered for him. Truthfully, he had no idea what had become of Relkir, and his lucky medallion was pretty much all he had left of his brother.
A large creak snapped Retvik back to reality. The gates behind him had snapped shut, and the large metal door began to open. Retvik had barely stepped into the arena when a colossal, 4m tall ball of flesh and teeth charged at him, swinging wildly with its tail and throwing Retvik against the nearest wall. The impact would have floored most gladiators, heck, it would have badly winded Retvik, had he not received his new healing powers, but thankfully Retvik managed to scramble back to his feet before the Thragger could attack with its jaws. Jaws large enough to comfortably bite Retvik’s head off.
“This is not going to be easy…” Retvik grunted, adjusting his helmet.
The Thragger snarled, biting a lump out of the wall, spitting out crumbling concrete. It only consisted of a head, a body, two legs and a tail. It didn’t need anything else. Normally Thraggers would hunt in groups, stampeding and smashing through herds of herbivores, tearing apart whatever they ran into, and, currently, Retvik was the only thing this Thragger could run into.
With a roar, the Thragger charged again. Retvik led it towards a nearby pillar, leaping out of the way and letting it collide with heavy stone. The Lightbearer took the opportunity to swing at the beast with his sword, leaving a large gash in its side. This just enraged the Thragger though, which span around and ripped the sword from Retvik’s hand. Sure, that did leave the Thragger with a gaping mouth wound, but it didn’t seem to care.
Drawing a dagger, Retvik knew that he was going to have to wear down the Thragger before he could defeat it. Luckily, it wasn’t too smart, and was happy to keep on charging into various pillars and bits of terrain. Unfortunately, Retvik really needed his sword back, since the daggers were only scratching the Thragger and doing little to actually hurt it.
However not every charge was successful. As Retvik managed to finally get his sword back, the Thragger twisted round, almost at random, whacking Retvik in the side with its skull. As it did so, the rows of horns across its head ripped off Retvik’s stomach wrap, which it threw into the air and ate. Taking Retvik’s medallion with it.
Despite being winded from the attack, this infuriated the Lightbearer. With a growl, Retvik charged into the Thragger, bashing it in the side of the head with his shield. The Thragger retaliated by biting both the shield and Retvik’s left arm, its teeth digging deep into Retvik’s flesh. At this point, it became a battle between sheering teeth and the strength of Retvik’s flesh. He could feel the muscles in his arm tearing, the blood pouring from the freshly made wounds, but at the same time, Retvik could feel the muscles trying to heal back up.
With his spare hand, Retvik tried stabbing the Thragger in an attempt to persuade it to let go of him. To his dismay though, the more Retvik thrust his blade into the Thragger’s side, the tighter it bit into his arm. Instead, Retvik decided to try a new tactic. This time, he forced his bitten arm deeper into the Thragger’s mouth, shoving his fist down its throat. He then forced his clawed fingers into the Thragger’s nostrils, suffocating the great beast.
Eventually, its vice-like grip loosened, allowing Retvik to free his arm. Despite the vast amount of blood everywhere, the lacerations were already healing up. The Thragger staggered to one side, but Retvik did not give it a chance to recover. Grabbing his sword, Retvik stabbed the Thragger in the throat, cutting and sawing downwards, exposing its internal organs. He continued cutting until he found what he was looking for, his precious medallion, his lucky charm. Even if he clearly hadn’t needed the luck.
The crowd was cheering, but Retvik didn’t care. Clutching the medallion in his hand, Retvik sliced off the Thragger’s head, then silently left the arena, soaked in blood, but without a scratch on him.