Levik shivered briefly as he stepped into the Sandblast Arena, a small, open battlefield with nowhere to hide, nowhere to run. On the opposite side of the area was a recurring gladiator known as Viktor the Vorrible, a warrior sponsored by the Vrekan government who often tested newbie gladiators from other races, normally in close-quarters combat, so no guns, just blades and strength. And that was exactly what Viktor was doing today. The only difference was that the prime Vrekan specimen, with pitch black plumage and blue glowing spots all over his body, had no idea who he was fighting against. He’d been told he was fighting a Temthan. And that was what Levik was currently shapeshifted into.
It turned out that Viktor was also pretty popular. Most new gladiators, those good enough to be tested against folks like Viktor, were often hotheaded and overconfident. And the crowds absolutely LOVED a fire-blooded asshole being torn apart by a veteran gladiator. This bothered Levik because it meant there was quite a large crowd today, all watching and waiting for Levik to fail.
Except Levik wasn’t going to fail. He needed to push past his nerves. Straightening himself out and waving to the crowds, Levik did just that. He was about to fight a Vrekan. A very good, popular Vrekan gladiator, but a Vrekan nonetheless. He could do this.
The commentators above announced the two gladiators, naming Levik as just “the Challenger”, and a bell rang. Both Levik and Viktor stepped forward, both of them armed with swords.
“So, kiddo, you gonna say the same old bird crap?”
Levik didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Viktor was waiting for Levik to run at him, so that’s exactly what Levik did. As Levik charged forward though, he swiftly changed his form, into that of a Rethavok, and instantly shoulder-tackled Viktor, throwing them to the ground.
Viktor didn’t expect that, and barely had time to roll over as Levik spun around and trampled over him, stamping rather painfully on Viktor’s chest.
“Ow…”
That moan of pain did cause Levik to pause.
“I’m sorry…”
“Did you just apologize?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Both Viktor and Levik blinked at each other. Viktor snapped out of his confusion first, and managed to find the strength to push Levik backwards. Levik stumbled only briefly though, and as he did, he shapeshifted into something even bigger, a Banikan.
“Oh no…”
Working out what was going on, Viktor put some space between himself and the mystery Spast gladiator, grabbing both his sword and Levik’s dropped sword in the process. Levik did worry briefly, but then he remembered that he was a Banikan.
No.
He was a Spast, shapeshifted into the form of a Banikan. There was a difference. Levik needed to remember that difference. He could afford to lose himself.
Levik was snapped back to reality as a sword embedded itself in his shoulder. He expected it to be agonizing, but it only really stung. Levik considered leaving the sword in place, but realized it was a gladiator battle, that he wasn’t going to die or anything, and that he could remove the sword. It wasn’t even embedded that deep, the shoulder padding he was wearing had blocked most of the blade. With a pained snarl, Levik made the decision to pull the blade out and throw it away, so that Viktor couldn’t stab him again, or wiggle the blade to make it hurt more. Really, Levik was more surprised that Viktor had thrown one of his weapons. Then again, Viktor was an experienced gladiator, he knew not to get too close to a Banikan.
But Levik didn’t need to get close. He was a Banikan. He could breathe fire. So that was exactly what Levik did. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and exhaled sharply, making sure he made the right mouth shape.
“YOL!”
A blast of fire and heat erupted from Levik’s maw, lasting for two seconds before swiftly petering out. Viktor had only partially expected flames, but not that much fire, and the sheer rise in temperature had forced him to drop his sword. Levik charged again, but instead of tackling Viktor, he span to one side and threw Viktor across the arena with a whack of his heavy, spiked tail.
“This is so not fair…” Viktor muttered as he struggled to stand back up. “I would have prepared better if I’d known I wasn’t fighting a normal Temthan…”
“Shouldn’t you be prepared to fight anything all of the time?” Levik asked.
“No, that’s a House Fighter’s job!”
“Fair enough?” Levik shrugged, not really agreeing but not really wanting to argue. He waited for Viktor to stand upright, then backed off slightly, thinking briefly to himself while he watched Viktor try and find his sword.
All of a sudden, Levik had an idea. It was a bit of a mean one, but Levik didn’t really want to have to bite Viktor or claw at him, since he couldn’t find his own sword.
With a smile, Levik leaned down so he was on all fours, then shapeshifted himself into the cool white and gold Thrack he had trained against the other day. Except bigger. Much bigger, but much lighter.
For a third time, Levik charged at Viktor. But this time, rather than aiming to one side, Levik grabbed Viktor around the arms, then flapped his newly formed limbs and lifted him effortlessly into the air. Viktor struggled, he struggled a lot more than Levik expected. Which turned out to be a bad thing, but mostly for Viktor. Especially as Viktor decided to peck at Levik’s arm, breaking the skin and making Levik bleed. This made Levik unexpectedly drop Viktor completely.
Despite being bird-like, Viktor immediately panicked as he fell. And since Levik wasn’t a skilled shapeshifting flyer, he couldn’t try and catch Viktor. The armoured Vrekan hit the ground awkwardly, breaking his arm and his leg. The injuries caused Viktor to be immediately teleported out of the arena and to the medical bays.
Feeling rather bad, Levik landed clumsily, then turned back into his normal green and black Spast self. The crowds were utterly bewildered, but after a few moments of silence, they erupted into cheers and applause. The cheers were messy at first, but they slowly morphed into a single phrase.
“MYSTERY SPAST! MYSTERY SPAST!”
Levik grinned, then waved to the crowds. The crowds cheered louder, demanding to know who Levik was. But before Levik could do anything, the House Master could be seen at the arena gates, heavily suggesting that Levik make his exit. He couldn’t really speak to the crowds anyway, he lacked a headset.
Still waving, Levik skipped out of the arena and greeted the House Master.
“Excellent work!” Tanok beamed as he shook Levik’s hand. “Excellent work indeed! We do need to spend some time practising your melee skills and calming your panic instincts, but well done indeed!”
“I did well?” Levik blinked.
“Yes! I’ll be blunt, a lot of us house fighters were watching and were expecting you to properly panic and try to run when Viktor threw his sword at you, but you kept your cool and kept on fighting! And, as a bonus, the crowds loved you! We do have a lot to work on, but you did great.”
Levik jumped up and down, clapping his hands together with glee, before suddenly stopping. “Yay! I can’t wait to do more! I… I do need a lot of sugar though, I’m suddenly very tired.”
Tanok smiled, and put a hand on Levik’s shoulder, leading him away. “No worries. We’ll get you to the canteen so you can refuel. Shapeshifting must be very strenuous.”
“It really is… Are Psiksi, Timik or Abius there?”
“They should be. Psiksi’s match finished an hour ago.”
“Goody!” Levik grinned some more. “I can’t wait to tell them that I won my first match!”
“Considering how you did today, I think you’ll win a lot more.”
“Really?”
Tanok nodded. “Of course. You have talent AND dedication AND bravery, more than you’d think. Those all go very far around here.”