Chapter 2

An easy smile on her face, she said, "How 'bout no." One of the men sidled up to her and put a sweaty hand around her shoulder. He smelled like garlic and urine.

He smiled and loomed over her. "Sweetie, I'm sure it's been really hard on you to fight in here, but I'll treat you real well. We'll have lots of fun together." The other men almost felt bad for him. Really, it was his own fault for not knowing about the girl; she was famous throughout the empire for taking down people with one hit. They faulted it on him being new, and the fact that the girl looked too petite to do any harm. Any scars she had were not visible, and the only sign that she was a fighter was the lithe muscles that one could see on her arms.

Her smile came easy and quick, so blinding that the poor man thought she was accepting his offer. "How 'bout no, right down to the seventh level of hell?" She slipped out of his grasp and kicked him in the balls. It was dirty, but fighting dirty was what got her the wins, and what made the other men fear her. After five years of fighting in the colosseum, you learn that pride is not a good thing to have if you want to win.

The man fell to the ground clutching his crotch, eyes watering and curse words flowing. A more considerate competitor patted him on the back, knowing full well how painful the girl's kicks were, being on the opposite side of her powerful legs once. "It's not a good idea to piss Deus off. She might not be the oldest, and she might not have been around here for the longest, but you'll regret crossing her every time."

Eyes still watering, his voice crackled. "Deus? As in, the one-hit god of the colosseum?" A nod answered him. He moaned. This was something that he couldn't imagine; there was no way someone so young and small could be one of the three Gods of the colosseum. "For fuck's sake, this little girl is Deus?"

Rolling her shoulders, she exhaled through her nose. "Anybody else wanna test their luck?" Once she got strong enough, she hurt anybody that pissed her off to keep the rest of them in line(and a little more, but once you were on that cusp, it only took a push). So far, it worked wonderfully, and she got whatever she asked for. It was a far cry from who she had been when she first got here, but five years staying in a prison with deadly beasts and criminals toughened her beyond comparison. Any trauma that she got quickly had to be thrown away, and the need to survive was the thing that ran through her mind every second of every day. Surviving came first, and anything else was unnecessary. And her past showed that a certain amount of arrogance was necessary to not get harmed.

The little crowd that had gathered around them dispersed. "Hey, Dimitriou," she pushed her way over to the guard. "D'you know how much I've got in my account?"

His face was stiff and his stance was rigid. He had been one of the unfortunate recipients of one of her punches last year, and his nose broke due to it. "You've got more than enough for whatever you want, prisoner."

Deus twisted her hair up into a ponytail. "Good. Now write this down. I want new boots, an extra set of clothes like the ones I'm wearing now, undergarments- ask Laurel, she'll know what size- a bar of soap, another set of weights, cloth of any color, and another stationary set." Halfway through her first year, she discovered that if you win fights, you were awarded winnings, even though they were considered criminals. They could buy anything they wanted with their earnings, except for weapons, though most tended to save up to buy their freedom. She could not buy her freedom, so there was nothing else to do but spend it.

"Oh, and just for the heck of it, buy some custard creams and share it with your guard friends. And a pack of beef jerky for myself." Dimitriou was writing down her order frantically. As one of the guards that were stationed more frequently here, he knew that if he didn't come back with all of the items she listed, he would be on the receiving side of a kick to the chest, and with the little edge that her boots had, it packed one hell of a punch.

He was glad that she never tried to escape, because he wasn't entirely sure if there was any guard that could actually stop her. She was only slightly less powerful than the veterans that had been here for more than five years, and she was an awful good helper to help get them back in line. How she managed to stop the more powerful ones from hurting her, he had no clue, but he was fairly sure that there was some kind of deal that went on between them that occured after her first year here(no, that was a lie, he new exactly how she was keeping them in line, how she kept everybody in line. She was a monster, more so than the worst criminals).

Dimitriou was fairly sure that her first year had been one of the worst amongst all of the gladiators. As a young girl, she had been molested by many of the older ones, though none of them were allowed long enough with her to rape her, and she only barely made it through every battle. It was a miracle that she hadn't died(she didn't- she couldn't, she was too strong, too frightening).

Still, that was better than most of the girls that ended up here, typically on false accusations. Those girls got broken within hours, died within a week or two. And within that time period, they got broken beyond repair; most of the girls who came were older, and the other gladiators didn't have even the slightest moral dilemma about raping them. After the three years he had been in service in Reim, he still didn't know whether or not the rumors of Deus killing a village was true; he couldn't imagine her killing that many typically(no, her kills were one at a time, slow and torturous…), but once she got into the arena, she was a different person(and then he could, he could imagine her burning everything in her path for no reason at all).

Her fights were the ones that everybody wanted to see, though they lasted the shortest. It was the fire in her eyes, the fluidity of her movements, the artful precision of where she landed a hit. That was for other gladiators though, and the ones that were the most anticipated were the ones where she fought against a beast. He had watched her battle beasts a few times, and he had been utterly terrified.

When she fought with a beast, he couldn't tell where her pupil started and where her iris ended. She fought with her teeth bared, just like the creatures she faced. If they scratched her once, she paid them back a thousand fold. Her method of fighting was brutal, animalistic, savage. It sent chills down his spine, and he was glad that she didn't fight like that against other humans, because watching the blood of humans raining down on the arena was not a pleasant thought. Even just imagining it, it made his stomach turn.

The guard also knew that her fights were the ones that were most commonly frequented by the ever-growing Fanalis corps as well as the special military forces of Reim. They were the first ones in, and they never took their eyes off the match for a moment. Dimitriou was sure that once she served out her sentence(because there was no way that she could die- she was a God in the arena after all) she would be recruited into the military. He didn't know if the girl wanted to, but even if she didn't, they would find a way to tie her down, by hook or by crook.

A hand was waving in front of his face. "Dimitriou? Earth to Dimitriou?" He snapped to attention. "Finally," Deus rolled her eyes, "I said that I wanted you to commission a metal cuff for me. Just one, in silver, and a chain that comes out of it." She held up a drawing, crudely done, but got the point across. "Don't care how long it takes, or how much it costs. In fact, it's probably better if it takes a long time for me to get it. But I want it sturdy enough so it won't bend or break in combat, and I want two chains; one thing that can loop around my wrist and one that's longer with another cuff that can attach to my upper arm."

She thought for a beat. "You know, I don't want it until at least a year from now, and even then, I want it a little bigger than my wrist and upper arm. You don't have to order it until next year, but this'll be your heads up."

He opened his mouth and closed it. She ordered him around frequently, but she never asked him to commission something for her before. It was rather odd, and though it wasn't against any of the rules, nobody had asked for something to be commissioned before. "Yeah, and if you're wondering why I want it, tough nuts, you're not going to get an answer until I get out of here. In the meantime though, a thin silver anklet or something similar will do."

Her request had to do with metal; typically she asked for leather straps if she wanted any kind of jewelry. Silver was flashy, and it made that body part an instant target if her opponent was another gladiator. Anything you take off the opponent's body, you can keep. The only thing to do with metal that would be beneficial to her was dungeon capturing, but Dimitriou didn't see how she could capture a dungeon while she was imprisoned. Perhaps she got the news that the Fanalis Corps leader got a metal vessel and was interested in acquiring one for herself?

"No guessin' what I'm gonna be using it for either, Dimitriou. After all, I'm using my own money to treat you and the rest of the guards to food. Don't butt into my business." Her eyes narrowed, and she playfully wagged a finger at him. Though the years had been harsh, there was no doubt that her personality had grown very pronounced. "Don't worry 'bout it though, it's not like I'm custom ordering a weapon. Plenty of these guys keep armor on them; just think of this the same. Or if you want, you could think of it like those damned shackles the slaves wear." First, she gestured towards one of the men in the room that had full on armor, wrought from iron. He traded one of the guards money for it, and it seemed to be doing its purpose just fine.

Then, she pointed towards the dark hallway, the one that held less light than their own. That was the quarters where the slaves were kept, and they had nearly no chances of surviving past fight one. This room was full of criminals, people who knew pain and how to manipulate it. But the slaves, they were not at fault. They were dragged into the life and given little to no hope. The rooms that the slaves were kept in held a much more somber mood, as their number decreased daily. Deus had passed the rooms once or twice, for reasons she long forgot. Still, as soon as she stepped into the darned place, she wanted to turn tail and run. She could deal with bloodlust, rage, and anger, but sadness was something she didn't know what to do with. She herself had never been patted on the back when she was upset, when she cried. Not when she was young, and certainly not know. Crying was weak, and yet, all of those slaves were huddled into corners, choked sobs erupting from their throats. What was worse that that, was the silence. The silence of those who had been broken already, the ones that had nothing left to fight for, nothing left to live for- nothing left to die for.

Deus hated the slave's corridor. Ever since that first time, she refused to go there even upon request. It was one of the only things she wouldn't budge on.

Now off of the ground, the man whose crotch she kicked staggered back up. "Don't think I'm not going ta go down without a fight." She sneered at him. Just thinking about the slaves corridor got her riled up, and if he wanted a fight, she wouldn't be so kind as to put him down with one hit. He snarled, clenching the area near his family jewels. His pride had been injured, and by the magi, he wasn't going to lose to a little girl. Deus was one thing, but this girl could not be deus; the other men must have been lying to him. "Ya little bitch! Know your place. Little girl's ain't supposed to go 'round acting so high 'n mighty."

Well, when he did go, at least he would go out swinging. A huge hand came down upon Deus, and the criminal attempted to grab her by the hair. Though her hair was longer than some of the men, it only fell to her shoulders, so it wouldn't provide much of a gripping station anyways. His attempt to grab her came much too late, though. Again, she kicked him, though this time not in the groin. She kicked the back of his right knee, bringing him to a knee. She kicked the other, and then his crotch, and he kneeled prostrate now.

The boot she wore, well worn and rather soft, still had an edge to it, and as she rubbed it into his shoulder, a little bit of dirt and fecal matter chipped off. Her face contorted and turned into a horrible beast that the other criminals rarely saw. A little more pressure and his chest was on the floor. Dislocating both shoulders, his screams of pain caused the other criminals in the room to look away in disgust, or to look towards the beat down with avid interest. It all depended on their morals as men. "Dimitriou, what's the date?"

"June 21st." Dimitriou did not intervene. His face was carefully closed, shoulders relaxed, but hands tensed on his sword. This scene was all too familiar to him.

When the screams died down to whispers, and the man thrashed less, she crouched down to his level. "Know my place?" The people who had been around the place for more than two years shivered, because her voice was reminiscent of when her biggest change happened. For three years, she had been looked down upon, but still strong enough to ward off any attacks. For the last two though, she reigned as the irrefutable ruler. Yes, she was not the strongest, but she made the most connections, and even those who were stronger than her could not help but acquiesce to her demands. "I think you should know yours instead."

The man spat at her face. She got up with a laugh. "Oh, 'scuse me. I was mistaken. You don't need to know your place." Deus wiped off the spit and flung it onto the floor. "You don't have a place, not here. Perhaps a better place for you would be…"

Her leg raised again, and she brought it down with the power of a battle axe, hitting exactly the right place. Again, she laughed. "Buried underneath a pile of trash. Because scum like you don't even get six feet under." She rubbed the heel of her foot in a little bit more, crunching his neck under foot. With strength that came from years of training and conditioning, Deus was very capable of twisting somebody's neck, especially when their neck was positioned just so. His chin had been propping him an inch or two off the ground, and from there, it was as easy as making the crowd in the colosseum call for blood.

Smile wide, she gave a glance back to Dimitriou. "You should get somebody to clean up this body." Her nose crinkled just a little bit. "His shit is going to smell real bad, awful soon."

The grip on his sword relaxed before he nodded and left the room. Deus stepped over the body and put both palms up in a gesture of peace. "All's well that end's well, right?" The weaker ones, the ones less versed in the cruelty that went on behind closed doors, were shocked and wary. Those that weren't…. They understood. This had been a show of her strength, something she started to do quarterly, to strike fear into the new addition's heart. The more fear, the less they would be willing to rebel.

The veterans knew her game all too well. They had done it too sometimes, but not so practiced, and not with such intention. More often than not for them, it was spur of the moment. But Deus, when she killed… there was little reason, very little reason, and the only thing that linked them together were the dates.

A kill every time the seasons changed; fresh blood to bring in a new season.

Later that day, the man who did nothing wrong except for the criminal actions that threw him into the colosseum, was tossed into a dumpster. A thin layer of trash covered his body, and his eyes, still open, could see nothing more than the buzzing of flies.

"High Priestess Scheherazade." Dimitriou lowered his head and got down on one knee. With his left hand open against his right fist, he shook, ever so slightly. "She killed another today."

There was no need for her to ask who, because Dimitriou only had one real job. "Is that so?" Her gaze fell upon a figure clad in gold. "Well, Muu? Are you planning on fighting her any time soon?"

"No, Lady Scheherazade. Not when the end of every fight calls for blood. If your theory holds true, she could be a very useful ally to us in the future, and-"

Nerva interrupted. "Useful? A little girl? I should have known that the likes of you would support her joining Reim." He gave a pointed glare at Muu, unsuccessfully trying to talk down to the red-haired man. Adjusting the laurel on his head, he stuck his nose towards the sky and scoffed. Muu's shoulders tensed, and he clenched the sword at his side so hard that his knuckles turned white.

He did not speak up for himself, no matter how mad he was. "That's enough, Nerva, Muu." Scheherazade closed her eyes and gave a world-weary sigh. "Would you fight her, Muu, if you were given an opportunity outside of the colosseum? Is she strong enough as she is now to hold her own against you?"

Muu paused a beat. The girl was strong, but she was still a girl, and younger than him at that. He was half fanalis; she was not. He was blessed with a djinn(though to make him use it in battle was doubtful); she did not. He had formal training, years of strategy, years of war; she did not. The mock fights that she did in the colosseum were brutal and quick. She knew how to put on a good show, but that wouldn't be enough. The art of war was something entirely different. So when he answered, he was sure of himself. "She would not last more than a minute."

It was a kind answer, given that when he was serious, the majority of his opponents didn't last past fifteen seconds. Scheherazade fingered the gold metal of her staff. "I see. Dimitriou, any odd requests from her? Anything out of the ordinary at all?"

"Like all of the other deaths she's caused inside of the prison, she had no true reason to be angered enough to kill. It seems as though her method of antagonizing people has become slightly more brutal, though no less than some of the fights that we've all witnessed at the colosseum. As for out of the ordinary requests, she did ask for me to commission an item for her. A single, silver metal cuff with two sets of chains coming out of it. She has given me a depiction of it, if the Lady so wishes to see it."

She tilted her head a little bit, jewels in her hair tinkling. "Approach." He fumbled a little bit, long black bangs getting in the way of his line of sight. Nerva let out a snort, showing how little he cared for the man who was not originally from Reim. The paper was folded neatly into a square, creases expertly placed to ensure that the drawing would be preserved as much as possible. Dimitriou placed it on her lap and retreated back into his kneeling position.

Her lips pursed as she tapped on the paper twice. "Did she ask for any specific smith to make it? What time does she want it done by?"

"No, she did not ask for any specific smith. She said to commission it after a year has passed."

"You may be dismissed, Dimitriou. I will return this paper to you in a year's time." The man scurried out of the room, like a mouse fleeing from a housecat. Scheherazade stood. "Now, then, let us discuss what our next course of action should be."

"My lady, no offense meant, but is it truly imperative that we must act now? We have five more years before she is dismissed from the colosseum, and during those years, we can decide what to do with her. As it stands now, I see no need to recruit such a young girl to our side." Ignatius, the oldest dungeon capturer, was a little bit dubious about recruiting a girl who would kill so easily just to maintain power in a criminal's den. Perhaps it was necessary, yes, but it only took a step from the death of criminals to the deaths of innocents.

"It's true; we don't need to act now. But her loyalty to Reim will forever be in doubt if we do not clear her now. Nobody in the army would be willing to trust her, or follow her lead. This is why we must get her to be as strong as possible as soon as possible. War with Kou is inevitable; if we are one person stronger, that might make all the difference."

Under his breath, Nerva said, "I don't see how a mere woman would be able to make any difference in war. That's a man's job."

"Nerva," Scheherazade warned. He fell silent. "I know the three of you may be against this, but having this girl in our employ would be more favorable than if she ended up with Kou. Which is why I'm suggesting she spends the rest of her sentence under the tutelage of the Yambala gladiators."

Scheherazade's suggestions were orders, not a persuasion. When she suggested something, it was to be done. Ignatius took this as his cue to leave. "I understand, High Priestess. I will set this up immediately. Do you wish for her to move out of the prison in the colosseum?"

"Yes…. but she isn't allowed outside of her quarters until further notice." The three of them bowed to her and exited the room, leaving her alone with the hopes she had for Reim's future, and the horrible premonition that the evil she had sensed in Kou would only grow.

She wondered of the abnormality she had felt all those years ago, and found herself thinking of the Sindrian Trading company. As long as a new power didn't sprout up within the next few years, everything should be fine…

All of this is basically build up to around chapter 4, so hang in there readers! things will get a lot more interesting and confusing there! Also, because I've already written up to chapter 5, you can expect bi-monthly updates for this story, and this story alone. Personally, I really like Deus' character, but I would love to hear what everybody else has to say.

*should be going to robotics, but don't want to face my life..

As always, reviews, follows, and favorites make a writer happy!