As the fight started it become obvious to everyone that the new slaves had no to little training, taking huge swings at his opponent which were easily dodged or averted. Raijen wondered what was expected from them here.

Are we supposed to win? They called me battle slave at the auction aren’t these all supposed to know how to fight?

Bargos blocked one of the swings, guiding the blade to the side and down slipping the sword over the belly of his opponent, drawing a grunt of pain. Anger was quickly building with adrenalin pumping in the new slave's blood.

Only to run out of it eventually and get killed himself in the process.

Blocking numerous strikes with his legs, sides, and beck, he eventually went to the ground, with a pain that would lead to the blue spots all over his body.

The second fight was better, the new guy took some inspiration and was mostly dodging and avoiding most of the strikes from his opponent. Raijens lips turned into a little smile as his shoulders relaxed.

Running, dodging, he is like Mauri, small and weak but fast and smart.

While interrupting his memories the rest of the spectating gladiators started booing and laughing. Realizing what was happening Raijen finally saw the face of the new slave more clearly. Sweating with flushed cheeks and tears in his eyes.

He is just scared shitless!

Unable to retaliate and mostly trying to avoid any hits to his body. One of the gladiators threw a spear under his legs, resulting in tripping fall face-first into the ground. Bargos waited for him to get up.

“I will kill ya if you don’t fight properly. Master isn’t interested in this shit. And you are useless if you can’t fight.”

Grabbing the sword with shaking hands, the voice of a boy in his early twenties broke as he rushed the gladiator with a scream, that was more desperation then threat. Stepping to the side Bargos rammed the pommel of the sword into his face breaking his nose with an audible crack. Blood spluttered over the sand as the men went down followed by the cheers of the gladiators around Raijen.

Standing next to the slave with bleeding nose he looked at the rest of them, his eyes shined with glee as he licked his lips.

“One of you will be my bitch, I wonder which one.”

With a leer on his face Bargos turned around, going back to his men.

“Hey, you!”

Jamming a wooden sword into Raijens chest one of the guards forced his eyes back from the image of the blood on the ground. Raijen felt something snap inside of him at the prospects of what was to come.

“You go next, and if you want to walk away on your legs I hope you are better at it then you look.”

Bending down to pick up the sword Raijen realized it was much lighter than the blue oak swords used in the clan. Keeping the blade low he contemplated his options.

My opponent is big, some type of trained gladiator for games I guess. Should I exchange the blows with him or just kill him and be done with it? Or is it better if I let him win? Are we even supposed to win?

Watching the other men pacing Raijen knew he will not let him go without an injury.

I can’t risk that here. If this place has any similarity to the traditions and concepts I’m familiar with, then the stronger you are the better your circumstances. If I can make the name to myself, I can just avoid any trouble these guys give to the new blood here. And I have an advantage, none of them are expecting anything from me.

“Brox, you are up. Don’t go easy on the little guy.”

Nodding, Brox didn’t think twice before he rushed Raijen in a straight line with a wooden sword at his side. Deciding to parry the hit, Raijen felt the strike carry through his hand, numbing it for a second.

Fuck Mowri! Not a good idea.

Dodging his next vertical swing Raijen went for his torso with the tip. Narrowly missing the belly Brox took a step around, going for the side. Ducking down it missed Raijen completely, he was small but it had its advantages.

Then knee hit him in the chest sending Raijen reeling back. Trying to catch his breath he narrowly dodged the next attack and then was forced to parry a double. Feeling his hand losing the sense Raijen decided to block the round kick with the side of the sword, shattering it in half and absorbing part of the hit by his elbow.

Infuriated by his little opponent still standing and without any real injury, Brox started taking deliberate swings designed to do as much damage and pain as possible. Lunges on the chest and belly, swipe on the torso and head. All Raijen could do was to dodge, he heard the shouts from the overlookers, but he didn’t pay any attention to them.

Remember the training, you need to focus. He is big and strong, but he is just a fighter, brawler, he will break.

Getting frustrated and even angrier as the fight advanced to the second minute Brox rushed forward, grabbing the sword with both hands as he went for the chest. Raijen dropped his guard, his sword went low, too low to block. Catching the strike directly into his chest the pain flared over his belly, chest, and neck, the skin on his chest felt like the fire burned the flesh and promise of a huge bruise and pain later was clear, but Raijen had just enough of playing.

Realizing the huge hit and the crack, which might have been ribs or wood Brox spotted pleased grin. For it to only turn into fear and confusion when Raijen ignored the pain and went right in for him. In an attempt to get away, Brox took a step back as Raijens hand went up to avoid the fist.

But the sharp edge of the broken wood penetrated the skin and muscle under the chin, the wood went halfway into the gladiator's jaw, spurting blood all over the sand and Raijens hands as the fighter went down.

Before Raijen could turn around something latched on his neck, unable to take a deep breath his lungs were instantly on fire, choking him. Yanked on his back and dragged over the ground his back burned as the rough sand dug open wounds into his skin. All he could and wanted to do was get the coil from his neck, clawing at it, trying to get his fingers uselessly under the leather. His vision started to go red, dark.

Heavyweight settled on Raijens chest and arms as the air rushed back into his lungs, heaving, taking deep breaths, he realized three men were on top of him, holding him down. Unable to even budge he relaxed, staring at the guy standing on his chest.

Tense moments passed, followed with the deathly quiet arena as Raijen wondered just how much has he fucked up, only to be interrupted by clapping hands. All the men looked in the direction of the balcony on the master who was standing near the railing, slowly clapping.

“Good. Good, we have some real talent there.”

Gesturing on someone behind Raijen he went back to sit.

“Take him inside, I will deal with him later.”

With no protest or even change in expression the men with the whip noded. Turning to the rest of the gladiators he pointed with the whip.

“Master. You two, take him inside and watch over him. Don’t touch him, but if he tries something to beat him to sleep.”

With nods, two of the men grabbed the boy under the armpits and dragged him inside of the manor. Unable to resist as he was still winded with adrenaline leaving his system, Raijen could only watch as they passed heavy black doors with halved yellow insignia he didn’t recognize.

The insides were built on carved columns, decorated with patterns of animals and all kinds of the fauna of the new world. The walls had drapes hanged over them in red or yellow hiding the stone, separating one part of the manor from another. In the middle of the entrance hall was open space with a small stone pool full of water and an open roof.

Raijen was led to the stairs and dragged into the second floor. Passing a few slaves, mostly women carrying food and drinks in red clay pottery. Sparring him a glance, unsure of what is going on, but afraid, they continued with their tasks. Raijen wasn’t sure he wanted to know why they had such eyes when they met his.