Chapter Nine

War Games

Much has been theorized on the workings of godly power. But the late researcher Eriphitus Araxthenes has produced a theory of remarkable significance. He postulated that the gods' genetics allows them to access some source of energy that gives them the power to do things no other being can.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯Anton Ravenson, Codex Deorum Essay One⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

We finished the conversation in unbroken silence.

That is to say, we all pondered what had been discussed, and looked somberly at one another. A spectral sight we would have been, had there been any audience to our conversation.

In the absence of speech, I looked down at the beautiful book in my hands. It was of dark brown leather, with gold gilding around the edges. There was a strange symbol etched into the center and filled with gold and silver designs. The symbol was overlaid on a metal circle. Each element of the design was masterfully, and intricately crafted, indeed it seemed that there could be no other book like it. The symbol itself was a web of gold and silver lines, weaving together in the center, and swirling into two opposing circles on the edges; the gold lines lead into one circle, and the silver lines to the other.

In the distance, a horn sounded, a solitary, powerful note. Reyna and Ethan looked towards each other, and then at me. The silence that had reigned for the last few moments seemed rent into pieces, with the shrill sound of the horn.

"Jason, do you think that you will be able to participate in the War Games? I mean, Camp was a lot to take in, just because it's your first experience with all of this, and now with what we've just talked about⎯⎯⎯" Reyna paused. "What I'm trying to ask is, are you going to be fine?"

I nodded, and she looked relieved. But there was one question I still needed to ask.

"Um… Reyna, what are War Games?"

There was silence for a moment.

Reyna's lips curved into a wicked smile.

The War Game today was to be gladiator fighting.

The fights were split into a bracket system, each legion fighting other members of its ranks until one remained. The winners were determined by the first person to disarm their opponent. When each of the legions were down to one gladiator, they would pit them against the other legions' champions. This would continue until there was one gladiator left. All abilities were allowed, the only prohibition was that one gladiator could not kill another.

The Games were held in the amphitheater, the seats crowded with demigods and purportedly lares, although I still was unable to see them. Our legion commander, Bryce, was sorting us into our bracket groups. Ethan, who had been at my side a moment before, was suddenly swept away into another group, and I felt a pang of loneliness; He was practically the only person I knew here.

The first person I was to fight turned out to be a boy named Garrett, he was tall, muscular, and well built. His hair was a sandy brown with strands of gold. He had Brown eyes that seemed to pull the world inwards towards their dark centers.

Just then, the horn sounded again, and the amphitheater silenced. No one spoke a word, but a surge of excitement settled over the arena, buzzing through the air in arcs of invisible electricity.

The War Games were about to begin.

Legion One sent out their first pair of Gladiators, their purple camp shirts partly showing beneath their breastplates. One was a young girl with long black hair pulled into a tight braid, the other was an older boy with light brown hair and a bandanna wrapped around his head.

This time, a gong sounded, and the two gladiators, standing on opposite ends of the sandy arena, sprinted towards each other, weapons blazing. The girl held a small dagger, glinting dangerously in the afternoon light. The boy gripped a wickedly curved scimitar made of some sort of gold.

They met in a wild fury, the boy vehemently attempting to get his scimitar in close range of the girl. She matched his attacks with expert movements of her dagger, parrying and glancing blows from the scimitar with its hilt. The boy was a strong fighter, but he lacked much of the form and grace of the girl. The sounds of metal on metal filled the amphitheater and the crowds began to cheer, rising to a deafening roar.

The boy, who I found out was named Vincent, was agile and strong, a powerful momentum behind every move. The girl, Charlize, although lacking in muscle compared to Vincent, had skill and a profound mastery of the dagger. She was quick and light-footed, and though her attacks did not carry the same momentum as her opponent's, she used them strategically.

Both were fantastically talented, and the audience was all into the duel. They roared their approval when Vincent landed a blow on Charlize's shin guard, causing her to stumble. However, the girl slipped into a roll, and knocked Vincent off his feet, raking her dagger through his left calf and slicing the straps that held his shin guard on. The audience cheered again as Vincent dropped to the ground in pain.

Charlize readied to attack again, but Vincent kicked her in the stomach with his right leg, sending her flying across the arena, a billowing cloud of sand trailing after her. He stood up, blood streaming from his wound, and made his way to where Charlize lay motionless in the sand.

Standing over her, he reached to take the dagger still clutched in her palm; all he had to do was take it from her, and he'd win. He bent down, and that was all it took.

Charlize was up in a flash, she brought the dagger down on his right foot, her blade piercing through flesh and the sole of his shoe. Vincent howled, and in his pain dropped his scimitar, which thudded softly in the sand.

The audience exploded with sound, and various people shouted their joy, the crowd now chanting "CHARLIZE! CHARLIZE! CHARLIZE!"

Many duels later, I found myself shaking. I was terrified. I watched duels where demigods summoned fire to their aid, setting their opponents ablaze, some made vines erupt from the ground and entangle their enemies. All of the campers seemed to be masters of fighting, and nearly every loser left the battle with some sort of horrible injury.

The champions decided for legions One and Two, and Three already halfway through their preliminary duels, it was one duel until Garrett and I's fight.

Bryce, our legion commander, ushered Garrett, and I individually to the gates on either end of the arena, where we would make our entrance before the gong sounded.

From behind the gate, I could hear the duel going on in the amphitheater. Clanging swords rang from outside, and after a few moments, the duel had apparently ended. That had been a short fight. My insides twisted as I realized that I was up.

I had Judex Finalis strapped to my side, a breastplate, arm guards, and shin guards belted on tightly. The two who had just fought exited the arena, one on a stretcher and the other⎯⎯⎯ the other was Ethan. I saw him disappearing behind the gates at the other end of the amphitheater as my gate swung open for the camper on the stretcher. The injured camper had very minimal external wounds, in fact it seemed he had none, but judging by the pain on his face, I could tell that the real problem was internal.

The sound of the horn pierced the air, and I shakily gripped the hilt of Judex Finalis, walking towards the entrance to the arena. A thousand thoughts blurred into my head, a cacophony of images, sounds, and words.

And in that moment, everything disappeared. I realized that there were hundreds of things that I could be worried about, like getting injured or even dying in a literal gladiator fight. But in that moment, my biggest worry was that I might lose. Every thought suddenly became irrelevant, as I passed through the gate. Something seemed to stir in every cell of my body, an opening sensation pulsed through me, and I felt all fear drain away, flooded by power.

Garrett and I stood facing each other, on the small stones that marked where the competitors were to wait for the gong to sound. The world seemed to still, slowing down until one heartbeat seemed to last a century.

GONG

The world snapped back to real time and without knowing it, I found myself running forward at full speed. I whipped my sword out from my hip, holding it out to the side. Garret was almost to me, a small hammer in his hand. I slipped my mind into his.

He would feint to the right, and as I passed, he would bring his hammer down on my hip. That is, if I would let him.

He feinted, but I knew he would, and so I turned with him. I kicked out my leg, attempting to trip him, but he expertly danced his way around my maneuver. My mind still remained firmly connected to his mind, but what I had not realized was that I could only predict what he planned to do; muscle memory was so instinctive that he didn't even have to think.

I came to a halt, but Garrett's momentum still carried him a little way forward before he stopped as well. The spring of power still washed over me, and reaching inwards, I found the opening, and pushed It further open, letting loose a magnificent stream of energy.

Garrett rushed at me, hammer in hand, letting loose a guttural growl. Remembering what I could do, I formed the piece of my mind already within Garrett's head into a sharp point. I stepped aside as he passed, and swam my way through his mind, finding the portion that controlled his hand and struck violently with my needle.

He screamed, and I turned. My eyes found him just in time to find his hammer falling to the ground. He clutched at his hand, dropping to the sand in pain.

The audience was completely silent.

I was ushered quickly off the arena, to make time for the next match. The blood rushed to my cheeks as I fully took in the definite silence.

No one spoke, and everyone stared. Their gaze seemed to calculate every inch of me, and ask the question: How?

As I passed through the gates, a wave of relief passed through me. The wellspring of energy I had opened contracted inwards and closed. My skin itched and burned, and my head throbbed. Every part of me felt as if it were on fire.

Bryce pulled me aside excitedly and slapped me on the back.

"Dude! You just took out our second-best fighter!"

"S⎯⎯⎯Sorry." I responded, still shaken from the fight.

"Sorry? Why would you be sorry? I don't know what you did, but you were phenomenal!"

"That was my first fight… like ever."

"But not your last, you're going up in another match, maybe make the finals! Who knows, you might make champion for Legion Three, heck, you might win the entire Gladiator Competition!"

I smiled ruefully and waited for my next match.

I won the next duel and the next, and soon even the crowd recovered from their initial shock and began to chant my name as it was passed along by the few people who knew it.

Finally, it was time for the finals. I stood waiting behind the gate, ready to fight. It struck me again, that in this situation, in a strange camp, I never knew existed, I was worried about winning a literal gladiator competition.

The horn sounded, and I strode out, Judex Finalis already in hand. Stopping on the stone, I looked ahead to see my final opponent from Legion Three.

It was Ethan.