Muscles flexing, he instinctively reached for the familiar handle. As his fingers curled around the smooth metal, its energy surged through him, fuelling the storm within his powerful frame. The blade’s steely glint momentarily startled him, but this was his life. His body, honed by countless battles, instinctively calmed as he lifted his sword, ready to face the darkness once more.
He walked slowly along the familiar path, the echo of his footsteps reflecting against the stone-lined tunnel walls. Cool air wrapped around him, carrying a distinctive scent. He inhaled deeply, a thoughtful smile playing on his lips as he identified the aroma. It wasn’t just the smell of fear and uncertainty; it was the unmistakable scent of danger, lingering like a silent warning, and it thrilled him to his core. He blinked as he stepped into the blinding light. The heat struck his cool skin, and the deafening roar of thousands assaulted his ears. Were they cheering for him or merely bracing for the spectacle to follow? He scanned the arena and easily spotted his adversary. Their eyes met, but there was no acknowledgment. They slipped their iron helmets over their faces, each hoping to see another sunrise and revel once more in the presence of their loved ones.
