A deafening roar erupted from the teeming hordes packed into every corner of the majestic colosseum as the time arrived for the great tournament's commencement. Over one million eager spectators from all corners of the world had journeyed to the capital for a chance to witness this legendary display of martial skills.
Up in the imperial box, the seven rulers surrounded Emperor Augustus (King Bjorn Ironside ,High King Alistair, Chief Tonatiuh, Queen Surya, Pharaoh RamsesKhem ,Grand Prince Nikolai) on ornate thrones, while generals and advisors like High Priestess Avita and General Gaius stood solemnly behind them.
Keros stretched his neck, trying to spot Avita in the sea of dignitaries. Through subtle machinations over many years, she had become a close confidant of the emperor, though few knew the true extent of her influence.
"You seem nervous, boy," said Jorath, the mysterious exiled knight seated next to Keros in the crowded competitors' gallery overlooking the arena sands. "First time in a battle of this scale?"
Keros nodded, seeing little point in pretending to be at ease. "Does it show so plainly?"
Jorath chuckled dryly beneath his sinister mask. "As clear as sunrise. But take heart - we all feel that way before the first clash of steel. Just remember your training and let instinct take over once blades cross."
Down below, attendants raked the fighting ground one final time before the official called onward the first pairing of the day in his booming voice that reached every ear throughout the arena.
Keros watched anxiously, part of him hoping his name would not be called until later in the day when he had a chance to observe others and settle his nerves. To his dismay, the referee's next words shattered that thin hope.
"Keros of Riverbend versus Baldrick of the Northern Wastes!"
His heart dropped into his stomach like a stone. Of all the bad luck, to be matched with a seasoned warrior from the freezing hinterlands in his very first bout! He had barely finished processing this alarming development when Jorath slapped him on the back.
"No time for worries now, lad - it's kill or be killed. May fortune favor you this day." With those grim parting words ringing in his ears, Keros steeled himself and descended to the sands where his opponent waited.
Up close, Baldrick appeared even more intimidating - a burly man whose body seemed carved from weathered granite just like the mountain peaks he hailed from. Beneath a ragged fur cloak his hands caressed a viciously curved sickle blade. Keros swallowed down his nerves and drew his simple longsword, though it suddenly felt woefully inadequate next to Baldrick's fearsome weapon.
Before he had a chance to overthink this mismatch further, trumpets blared signaling the start of combat. Trusting in his atman training from Avita, Keros cleared his mind and assumed a defensive posture. Baldrick wasted no time, hurtling towards him with alarming speed for such a large man.
Keros barely managed to sidestep the first swipe of that wicked sickle, feeling the wind from its passage. Baldrick pressed the attack relentlessly, each crushing blow forcing Keros further onto the back foot. He realized with dread that one solid hit from his opponent could shatter bone.
Frustration mounted as Keros continued evading and deflecting the barrage unsuccessfully. He had not come all this way only to cower and defend uselessly. The audience was already shouting impatiently, demanding aggression.
In a brief lull, Keros focused inward and released his atman, feeling power flood his body. The next sickle swing seemed to come at him in slower motion and he ducked smoothly beneath it before springing up inside Baldrick's guard and delivering a forceful kick to the sternum.
The northerner staggered back winded, surprise flashing across his stony features. Seizing the momentum, Keros attacked with a series of quick slashes, driving his opponent around the arena perimeter. For the first time, Baldrick looked unsure as he struggled to resist this unleashed onslaught.
Sensing victory close at hand, Keros prepared to move in for the deciding blow. But he had forgotten one thing - injured dogs are the most dangerous of all. With deceptive speed, Baldrick seized a handful of the coarse sand and flung it upward right into Keros' face.
Blinded and disoriented, his atman enhancement instantly lost, Keros could only flail helplessly as Baldrick's meaty hand clamped down on his sword arm. Before he could react, Baldrick pulled him close and pressed the curved edge of his sickle tightly across Keros' throat.
"Do you yield, boy?" Baldrick growled.
Keros hesitated only a moment before letting his sword arm go limp with bitter resignation. The northerner pushed him contemptuously to the dirt and raised his hands triumphantly to the crowd's deafening cheers of approval.
As Keros lay sprawled in despair, the noise receded to a dull hum in his mind. All his grand visions of glory had been ruthlessly crushed in mere minutes. For a humiliating instant, he had allowed himself to believe atman made him untouchable. He had never anticipated the realities of true battle.
But defeat, however painful, was merely another lesson to improve by. And Keros meant to become the greatest warrior the world had ever seen...whatever the cost. His path was long, but failure here only strengthened his resolve. This was merely the first step.
Keros clenched his jaw, swallowing the bitter taste of defeat. The crowds jeered and taunted as he dragged himself from the arena sands, bruised in body and spirit.
This was not how his glorious ascent was meant to begin. Avita had such faith in his potential, yet he had barely lasted minutes against the hulking northerner Baldrick.
As Baldrick enjoyed the warmth in his victory, Keros boiled with anger. He could not let it end like this. An opportunity for redemption might never come again. Throwing aside reason, Keros rushed back towards his gloating opponent while his back was turned.
Drawing on every last ounce of his atman, Keros jumped on Baldrick's back and started mercilessly beating him in the head. The surprise attack rendered the large man helpless, his efforts to remove his assailant proving futile.
"Fight like a coward, die like a coward!" Keros spat, years of bottled frustration erupting as he continued raining blows. But his advantage was short-lived.
With an enraged roar, Baldrick rammed backwards at full speed, smashing Keros brutally between his bulk and the unyielding colosseum wall. The impact knocked the breath from Keros' lungs and his grip loosened.
Baldrick seized the chance to grab Keros and hurl him savagely across the sand. He slid to a stop barely conscious, his body screaming in protest. The incensed Baldrick charged ahead towards Keros to finish him off as the audience bayed for blood.
Certain death awaited. Then, in his haze of pain, the amulet from his father brushed his fingertips. Memories of family flashed through Keros' mind, reminding him of who he truly was. He had not come so far to fall now.
Ignoring his wounds, Keros took a deep breath and centered himself. As Baldrick closed in for the kill, Keros ducked under his wild haymaker and delivered a perfectly placed palm strike to his abdomen.
Baldrick bent over, gasping for breath. Pressing his sudden advantage, Keros disabled him with a leg sweep before locking the dazed behemoth's neck in a chokehold. Summoning the last dregs of his energy, Keros refused to yield until Baldrick finally lost consciousness.
A shocked silence gripped the colosseum. Then deafening cheers erupted for this unprecedented reversal. Despite nearly being killed, somehow Keros had emerged victorious.
As he limped away in a daze, a satisfied smile spread across Avita's face. Her eager young apprentice had tantalizingly endured his trial by fire as she knew he would. Such resolve deserved molding.
Emperor Augustus inquired of Avita, "Do you recognize this boy, high priestess?" To which she respectfully answered, "Your majesty, he is a young man from my village."
Nearby, Jorath watched Keros depart with newfound respect. "That boy has more lives than a damn cat," he chuckled to himself. "He just might make something of himself after all."
The fighter beside Jorath was not so impressed. "Hmph, beginner's luck," Viktor sneered. "That was a sloppy amateur's brawl, not a true warrior's victory."
Keros had taken the first step, but the long road ahead would forge him into the legends of old...or break him entirely. And behind the scenes, the shadow forces plotting Valexus' downfall had taken note...