Tale of a Hedonistic wizard

Jaegar's reputation as a relentless gladiator continued to grow. His presence in the arena became synonymous with blood-soaked triumphs, each victory cementing his status as the undisputed champion of underground fights.

The raucous cheers from the crowd still echoed in Jaegar's ears as he sat in the dimly lit room. The stench of blood clung to the air, a testament to the brutal spectacle he had just orchestrated in the underground arena. His fists, now lethal weapons, had transformed him into a formidable gladiator, leaving his opponents battered and broken in the merciless ring.

As Jaegar savoured a meagre meal of cooked meat and swirled a cup of strong liquor, the door to his chamber swung open with a creak. Rhalf, the shrewd overseer of this twisted entertainment, entered with a boisterous laugh that reverberated through the room.

"There you are, my champion!" Rhalf exclaimed, a sinister gleam in his eyes. His satisfaction was palpable, for Jaegar's ruthless performances had turned the underground fights into a lucrative business. The crowd's fascination with the brutality of each match had swelled, lining Rhalf's pockets with every victorious blow struck by Jaegar's unyielding fists.

Jaegar raised a curious eyebrow, acknowledging Rhalf's presence without uttering a word. His eyes, once filled with the wisdom of the arcane arts, now reflected the scars of his tumultuous journey from a wizard to a gladiator.

Rhalf, a portly figure with a cunning demeanour, circled Jaegar like a greedy merchant, assessing his prized catch. "You've become quite the sensation, my young friend," he continued, taking a seat across from Jaegar. "The crowd can't get enough of your blood-soaked performances. Business is booming."

A cynical smile tugged at the corners of Rhalf's lips as he poured himself a drink. He raised his cup in a mock toast. "To our flourishing partnership and the roaring success of our little venture."

Jaegar remained stoic, his gaze fixed on the flickering candlelight. The ancient bracelets adorned his wrists, serving as a constant reminder of the forces that had stripped him of his arcane abilities.

Rhalf leaned forward, his eyes probing Jaegar's inscrutable expression. "You're a mystery, my champion. No one knows where you came from, but everyone fears the storm you bring to the arena. The magic in your fists is worth more than any spell cast."

Jaegar remained silent, hearing him talk all through his meal, and right after finishing his meal, Rhalf left the chamber holding the liquor in his hand. He was quite cheerful, with his business booming.

The next day, there were no fights in the arena, and Rhalf directly came to meet Jaegar and stood in front of him, gleefully looking at him.

"Jaegar, my prized champion," Rhalf declared with a twisted smile, "I have good news for you. The wealthy elite of Pampaelo have taken quite an interest in your exceptional skills. They wish to witness you in action on a grander stage."

He paused for a moment, relishing the growing tension in Jaegar's eyes. "Tomorrow, my friend, you'll be the star attraction in a colossal match—a true spectacle in the Colosseum. The affluent patrons of this city will gather to witness your prowess firsthand. It will be a match unlike any other, more brutal and challenging than anything you've faced before."

Rhalf's words hung in the air, and Jaegar could sense the weight of the impending challenge. The Colosseum, a place where the wealthiest and most influential citizens of Pampaelo would converge, promised an audience like never before. The thought of facing opponents more formidable than those he had encountered in the underground arena loomed over Jaegar.

"The stakes are high, my champion," Rhalf continued, his voice dripping with excitement. "Your performance tomorrow could open up new opportunities, both for you and for me. These patrons have deep pockets and an insatiable appetite for bloodsport. Win their favour, and you'll find yourself showered with rewards beyond your wildest dreams."

As Rhalf spoke, Jaegar could feel the tendrils of fate tightening around him. The underground fights were merely a prelude to the grand spectacle that awaited him in the Colosseum—a battleground where survival meant not just victory but a chance at unravelling the mysteries that bound him to this dark realm.

Jaegar had been venting his anger on the opponents and, at the same time, increasing his physical limitations. He had gotten a lot stronger than the first time he got into the underground city. His fame as the Bloodfist has been ringing in lots of ears. And it had reached the city mayor and nobles.

The nobles, who are enthusiastic about the sport, have commissioned Rhalf to conduct the fights in the Colosseum.

After telling him the news, Rhalf and his men took Jaegar and other gladiators to the Colosseum.

As Jaegar, along with the other fighters, emerged from the underground tunnels into the dazzling sunlight, the vibrant city of Pampaelo stretched before them. After what felt like an eternity confined in the shadows, Jaegar squinted against the sun's rays, feeling its warmth on his skin. The city, adorned with white buildings and bustling streets, seemed to pulse with life.

Jaegar's attire, or lack thereof, drew the attention of the passersby. His muscular physique and overgrown beard marked him as a seasoned fighter, a living testament to the brutal battles he had endured in the underground arena. Whispers and curious stares followed their procession through the streets.

The grandeur of the Colosseum loomed ahead—a colossal structure that dominated the cityscape. Its towering walls and grand arches spoke of a venue where epic battles unfolded for the entertainment of the city's elite. The distant sounds of the crowd's eager cheers and the clash of weapons resonated, creating a symphony of anticipation.

Jaegar couldn't help but marvel at the sheer size of the colosseum as they approached. The entrance, guarded by imposing statues and adorned with intricate carvings, hinted at the opulence within. The fighters, led by Rhalf, ascended the steps that led to the grand spectacle awaiting them.

Once inside, the atmosphere changed. The air was thick with excitement, with the cheers of the crowd echoing off the stone walls. Jaegar's senses were overwhelmed by the sight of the vast arena, the tiers of seats filled with elegantly dressed spectators eager to witness the bloodsport about to unfold.

As they reached the centre of the arena, Rhalf gestured to Jaegar, signalling that this was the stage where he would showcase his skills. The cheers reached a crescendo as the fighters took their positions, and the anticipation of the crowd was palpable.

The sun cast its warm glow over the Colosseum, setting the stage for a battle that would captivate the hearts and wallets of Pampaelo's wealthy patrons. The time had come for Jaegar to face a challenge unlike any other, under the scrutiny of an audience hungry for both blood and spectacle.

In the heart of the Colosseum, the air buzzed with anticipation. The tiered seats were filled with elegantly dressed spectators, their eyes fixed on the central arena below.

Pampaelo's city lord, along with other wealthy elites, occupied the prominent positions, their faces expressing a mixture of excitement and curiosity. The sun, now high in the sky, cast a radiant glow upon the spectacle about to unfold.

The master of ceremonies, a flamboyant figure adorned in lavish attire, stood in the centre of the arena, his voice booming through the colossal structure. "Ladies and gentlemen of Pampaelo, prepare yourselves for a match like never before! Ten formidable fighters, each a champion in their own right, will battle for glory and the honour of their patrons!"

The fight was decided as a ten-man fight, and only one would emerge as the winner. The remaining will be killed. Jaegar, through all the announcements and speeches, kept his gaze locked down on the sand. He had grown numb to the cheering, and he didn't even know the name he had earned himself.

As the crowd erupted in cheers, the fighters, including Jaegar, stood at the periphery of the arena. The sun's warmth kissed their skin, a stark contrast to the cold underground pits where they had previously fought.

The gates on opposite sides of the arena swung open simultaneously, and the ten fighters entered, each stepping into the vast expanse of the battleground. The cheers of the crowd intensified, echoing off the stone walls.

Rhalf and his men existed in the arena, leaving Jaegar behind.

Like him, there were others who had arrived here with their gladiators. They all have a sword and shield in their hands. But Jaegar didn't have any weapons on him, and he didn't require any. He had been fighting all his matches until now with his bare fists. His fists are like iron and rock; once they land on the opponent, they will surely break the bones.

Jaegar's opponents were often taken by surprise when they realized the power behind his punches. His bare-knuckle fighting style had earned him a fearsome reputation in the arena, making him a force to be reckoned with. The crowd eagerly awaited his next match, curious to see if anyone could withstand the might of his fists. Discover exclusive tales on m,v l'e|m-p| y r