Azimuth: The Elden Throne

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/Crunk…/

/CHATTER!/

/Mumble…/

"..."

Before a tall metal gate, Dale stood with his spear pushed against the ground.

Faint sunlight shone in between the holes of the gate, something he hadn't seen for what felt like an eternity…

On the other side of the iron bars, the cheers and hoorays of the audience echoed strongly, shaking his chest with their booming cries.

/Clang!/

The sound of metal rang in the arena; with it, life was snuffed from this mortal coil, and for a moment, it seemed that his eyes and those of the deceased met, only for them to grow dim and empty soon after.

In a battle between two ordinary warriors, a single injury meant death, either immediately or after as they perished in agony…

In a sense, in this bloody place, people devolved into animals, weighing down every action as they faced their opponents, deciding whether it was worth it to strike down or not.

Although in nature, if an animal thinks a fight isn't worth it, they'll likely leave, while in here, it's either do or die.

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, unlike animals, humans are fragile beings. Even a simple injury can lead them to death, even to these warriors amongst men.

The human body can put up a fight and fix itself extremely well, but some animals can grow entire sections of their flesh if another creature takes a bite out of it.

/CHEEERS!/

They cheered, they booed, another fight had ended, an ending, and a beginning.

It was time for Dale to step into the arena.

/Clank clank clank…/

The metal door was pulled up by chains, the hidden mechanisms clinking as the iron was pulled and stressed under the door's weight.

"..."

"..."

On his side, the bloodied warrior who won, tired and emotionally stoic, walked past him without even giving him another glance.

Dale could tell he had been injured in the stomach, there was a deep gash there, bleeding continuously.

Even if he could live through the injury, he would eventually die in his next fight from being unable to give his all, unless this had been his last as a slave.

... There was just too little time...

Seeing this scene again made him a little sad, it was the second time he saw the man, but in both times he experienced it, the man always returned injured…

Not that he felt much after that, a mere wisp of a long-dead man, what good would it make to feel such emotions?

But at the very least, he gave him a silent prayer, may he be happy in his next life or his current afterlife, as all deserved it… Until they didn't.

/Step…/

With much in his head, Dale emptied his mind one thought at a time, focusing solely on his task at hand.

Within the memory shard, the System was deactivated, so there was no way to confirm or deny many aspects of the world through its analytical abilities.

He may have the healing 'potion' the man gave him, but there was no way to confirm whether it would be useful to him or not.

It was an emergency measure, one he had no intention of relying on.

Why did he accept the item if that was the case?... Well… He needed to make the man in the jail cell understand that he wasn't an easy-to-convince person, he wasn't so gullible.

And besides, it built trust… Of course, that wouldn't matter if the man decided to betray him in the end, but if the item he gave him was defective, then he would think Dale would rely on it when in truth, he wouldn't.

/Shine…/

/Squint…/

The strong light of the sun momentarily blinded his eyes, but soon enough, he recovered.

He walked to the center of the Arena, standing upward with his spear in hand, 'posing' for the audience.

In all honesty, it was just because he felt better standing like that…

"EVERYONE! HEAR ME! HEAR ME!"

The arena itself was built like a wide 'D', having a great mix of savage details such as spikes with skulls on the walls to more cult decorations such as statues of heroes and champions on the walls, some broken, others with all their limbs, but all were scarred.

The ground was a mix of sand and gravel, together with the splinters of past battles, be they bones, cut limbs, blood, or something else entirely...

"A NEW CHALLENGER JOINS THE ARENA!"

Atop a large tower near the straight wall of the arena, just a step below a wide veranda with a great view of the arena itself, a man with a powerful voice and a megaphone screamed with great energy:

"AN OLD FIGHTER, A GREAT ONE! SEVEN CONSECUTIVE FIGHTS, BRIMMING WITH YOUTH!"

"TODAY, HE FIGHTS FOR HIS HONOR, THE CRY OF THE EAGLE! THE SHARPNESS OF ITS TALLONS! ITS THE CHALLENGE OF THE KING OF THE BIRDS!"

"FOUR ENTER THE ARENA BUT WHICH WILL RETURN?! IT'S A DEATH MATCH!"

"WILL HE RETURN WITH EIGHT, OR WILL HE FALL TO HIS OWN CONFIDENCE?!"

"CAN HE PROVE HE IS A CHAMPION OF THE ARENA, OR WILL HE FAIL TRYING LIKE MANY BEFORE?"

"MAKE YOUR BETS NOW!"

Thanks to the acoustics of the arena, his voice traveled far and clearly, causing all to hear his message, no matter how far they were.

As he said that, dozens of people with large wooden backpacks, together with a few pretty clerks began walking down the stairs of the stadium, looking to see who was willing to bet.

Money flowed, and coins of all kinds littered the hands of the people, going from finger to finger as they were shoved inside the heavy backpacks.

Within the veranda, a man with a thin smile watched it all unfold, pleased with the enthusiasm of the audience this time around.

As Dale imagined, despite the clear high position of the man, he knew how to please the people, and to that, he knew that proper management of his 'workers' was necessary.

Dale was previously on his list of "noble sacrifices" but it seemed he chose to do something more daring than he had initially thought.

Pleased with his worker's actions, he sat down in a relaxed position, waiting for the show to ensue.

He'll let him work his own magic, if his actions prove reward, then he'll allow him to become a proper Gladiator and rise.

Otherwise... Back to the gallows it is.

/Around ten minutes later…/

/CHEEERS!!/

With even louder cries, likely because everyone had already made their bets, a group of three individuals entered the arena, all clad in heavy armor similar to Dale's.

However… It was somewhat clear that their armor had considerably more "armor" than his own.

'Humph, if my armor can be seen as Low quality, half-plate armor. Theirs can be seen as High quality.'

'Ridiculous, they aren't even trying to hide it… But very well, this only means there'll be a higher discrepancy than expected, which is even better for the arena itself.'

'If one person wins everything, then the arena will be able to take a massive sum of the money all at once, leaving everyone empty-handed… Unless they do something stupid, such as ramping up the odds to a point where the collected money surpasses what was collected, making them liable to pay for the difference.'

'Regardless, I only need to put up a fight that won't anger the audience and everything should be fine… Or so I would be thinking if I were a slave, but I'm not.'

'I don't care at all about what they think.'

Dale only saw the near future, being completely unphased by the distant repercussions of his actions.

To him, this was all a transitory event, what he wanted to pursue was beyond this fight, and he wouldn't spend too much of his time on this when he already had so little to spare.

Every minute here was a minute persuing long lost knowledge through these memories...

He just moved to his position, being on the opposite end of where the fighters had walked to.

Seeing them both facing each other made people think if Dale even had a chance, made as little as that was, it was still something.

"FOUR FIGHTERS ENTER THE ARENA, HOW MANY SHALL RETURN?" The commentator exclaimed as his body trembled with actual excitement

He loved his job, and above all, he loved when an actual fight seemed to take place.

Probably only natural give how many ordinary bouts he'd seen in his time...

"UNDER THE BLESSING OF THE FERONI OF RALMA, MAY THE BATTLE…"

"COMMENCE!!"

/CHEEERSS!!!/

"Hm..."

'Feroni of Ralma... That's a new name, interesting.'

'Is that the name of the Sovereign? One of them at least.'

'It's a clue, maybe I can find out where I am from it after I return... Roger should be able to help me with that since we'll likely be talking again soon.'

'Anyhow, enough thinking, time to work.'

/Pull…/

In one swift move, Dale pulled his spear, stepping forward as he approached his opponents.

They did the same, swiftly moving as a group, circling him as to strike from several positions at once.

There were three individuals, and neither of them possessed long-range weapons, which was fair enough as bows and arrows were OP in these circumstances.

Before him, there was a man in heavy armor with a shield and a large hammer in his hands, it was clear that he was there to block Dale's efforts and potentially deal a fatal blow through his armor.

Meanwhile, on his left, there was a man with a rope, a classic gladiator weapon, he also had a spear, albeit his seemed heavier than Dale's.

To his right, there was a man with a brutal-looking weapon, a morning star, and a quite well-made one at that.

It was squarish and its spikes were long and sharp, one well-put strike was all that was needed to put an end to him.

It was clear that he was outmatched in both equipment and numbers, as while he only had a spear, his opponents all had weapons made to bypass armor, except for the man on his left who had a spear, but his rope made up for it.

But despite all of this, Dale felt calm, it wasn't as bad as it seemed.

He prompted himself, approaching the man before him with continuous steps…

"Huff…"

His opponent seemed to struggle to breathe inside his armor as he drew in heavy, long breaths…

/Step…/

"...!"

Suddenly, when Dale was five meters away from him, he leaped forward, not giving the people on his left and right even a single moment to react as he pierced with his spear!

Although they were in greater numbers, their cooperation was terrible, leaving behind clear gaps for him to exploit.

They thought Dale would be intimidated by their march, but they were wrong, the moment they approached a given range, after being used to his slow and methodical pace, Dale jumped, taking them by surprise.

/PIERCE!/

He aimed his spear directly at the shield bearer's stomach! A strike with such precision and strength that penetrated through the plate armor!

"GUHGH!?!?!"

He winced in pain as he felt the cold tip of the spear dig deep into his bowels, knowing full well today would be his last.

In an outburst of anger, despair, fear, and a lot of adrenaline, he raised his hammer, smashing it down at Dale while his two companions finally recovered from their initial shock.

""?!""

But to everyone's surprise, Dale let go of his spear, dashing sideways through the man's wide swing, running to his back!

His expression hidden by the helmet, Dale began his real fight!

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Notes