Part 10 - The Greatest Sin

Chapter 163 - Let The Games Begin

The crowd was roaring, the music was blaring, and Max's heart was pounding. He could see the arena through the metal gate as he took the sword Alisha offered him.

"It is traditional for a Champion to name their sword." She said.

Max looked it over. It was a lot more ornate than the one he'd used the day before, and was sharp too. As for names, he didn't know. He considered 'Sting', but that had been coined by JRR Tolkien three googolplex years ago. He decided on naming it after a person, but who? He considered his sister, but 'Charlotte' didn't seem like a fitting name for a sword. Neither did Gwendolyn, Jacob, Edward, Teresa, Grace, and he was still upset at Miles. He thought about other people he'd fought beside and remembered what Null had called 'Poltava Two'. Max had led twenty-thousand Swedish soldiers to a meat grinder. He settled on a name commemorating their vain sacrifice:

"I'll call it 'Carolus Rex'."

"A good name."

A horn blared and the metal gate opened.

"Good luck, Max."

"Thanks."

Max took a deep breath and walked into the arena to face his opponent. The crowd was deafening, likely because this was the first fight of the day and they hadn't worn themselves out yet. He eyed up his opponent: a white, muscular man in full-body leather armour. It likely was supposed to take the edge off a blow instead of outright block them. He also had a shield which Max wondered why he didn't have one, but decided it was likely because he'd just been a slave and his opponent entered the Games willingly. What Max did have was a tunic of some sort as well as the two leather bracers which he'd questioned the sense of wearing into the arena, but decided any armour was good. A horn blared and the pair began to circle each other. Max feinted left, which the man didn't fall for, and ran round to the right. His opponent moved to cut him off and the pair met, the spider dropping to the ground to slide under the blow from his enemy's shield. The coarse sand rubbed his back raw, but he ignored the pain and slashed at the man's legs. They roared angrily and whirled round, but only to receive a fist across the jaw. Being relatively thin, but still packing an abnormal amount of strength for his size, Max was a deadly balance between hitting hard and hitting fast. The crowd cheered him on as he threw another punch. While withdrawing his hand from it, he grabbed the top of the man's shield and wrenched it from his hands before headbutting him to give him a chance to equip his new weapon. The man snorted, backing away with a broken nose.

"Ooh, that won't heal quickly." Max quipped in Dovahzul.

The man snapped something back in one of the many languages the God still didn't know. Max ignored it and took a running jump to plant his foot in their face, but it was caught and he was hurled to the ground where two beefy fists began to lay into him. The first few hits landed, then he managed to get the shield round to protect himself. A sword clanged on its metal edge a few seconds later. The recoil gave Max a precious second to bring his sword up and stab it into the man's neck. There was a disgusting gurgling sound as they stood up and stumbled around. When they pulled the blade free, a fountain of blood shot out and they collapsed, coughing until they went still. The horn blared a second time and the crowd erupted in applause and cheers, many rising out of their seats. Max raised his sword to the sky in victory, ignoring the pain from his raw back.

Upon returning to the gate, Max groaned. His back stung and he had blood splattered all over him. Alisha stepped forward and took his sword and new shield.

"How'd I do?" He asked.

"You did very well. The other Champions should fear you."

"Hmm. Don't count your chickens before they hatch."

"I do not understand what chickens have to do with this?"

"It's a saying that basically means don't always assume things will be fine because they're going well at the moment. I suspect the fights after this one will be harder."

"They will. Would you like me to get you some medicine for your back?"

"No, no. It'll heal quickly. When's my next fight?"

"Tomorrow at mid day."

"Yeah, it'll heal in time."

A few minutes later, Alisha had escorted Max back to his room. She disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a cloth, a sponge and a bucket of water.

"To wash the blood off, and maybe to soothe your back." She explained.

"Oh, thanks."

He took the cloth and began to scrub at the blood on his hands and face. She bathed his back with the sponge; the cold water helped a surprising amount.

"You fight very well. Where did you learn?" She asked him.

Max hadn't been expecting her to start any conversation, but he took it as a sign she was starting to trust him a little more. Maybe she was more willing to open up to him now she had seen he could handle himself and wasn't going to go down in round one.

"I learned when I was fifteen, mostly. I knew some of the moves before that, but fifteen was when I had to put the theory into practice."

"What happened when you were fifteen? And how old are you now?"

"You wouldn't believe my age if I told you. As for what happened when I was fifteen…it's complicated."

"Try me. With your age, I mean."

"Three googolplex years."

She frowned.

"That is not a number."

"It is. It's the number three, followed by ten to the power of one-hundred zeroes."

"'To the power?'"

"Oh. Your civilisation's mathematical knowledge hasn't invented powers yet."

"I am interested."

"OK. Let me just work out how to explain it. I've never taught mathematics before."

Max scrubbed a particularly tough blood mark off, then picked up his sword which lay on the table.

"In my world, numbers were written like this:" He drew the number 3 in sand on the ground. "A power was written like this." He added a small 2 hovering on the right. "How powers work is you take the first number and you multiply it by itself as many times as the second number says. So in this example, three to the power of two is nine because three times three equals nine. If I change the two to…let's say a four…" He scuffed the two out and drew a 4 instead. "The answer to this would be eighty-one because three time three is nine. Nine times three is twenty-seven. Twenty-seven times three is eighty-one. Get it?"

Alisha looked impressed.

"That is very clever. I understand multiplication. Why do your people need these powers?"

"It becomes very useful when you get to bigger numbers, such as the first example of ten to the power of one-hundred." He drew it in the sand. "This number, googol, is so big you would be sitting for months writing it normally. That's why we use powers."

"I understand now."

Max finished scrubbing off the blood and Alisha continued to bathe his back.

"What happened when you were fifteen?" She asked.

He froze as if her words were ice, then shook his head.

"No, not today. Maybe another day. It hurts to think about."

"I'm sorry for intruding on your past."

"It's fine."

Day two went much the same as the previous, although the fight lasted a little longer and saw Max get struck across the shin by his opponent's sword. In revenge, he relieved his opponent of their head a few seconds later. Day three was difficult as his opponent was smaller like him, although lacking the muscle to cause any significant damage with their fists. However, the extra agility made muscle more of a hinderance than a bonus. As for their age, they seemed to be in their late teens. As the horn blew, the opponents charged. The teenager wielded a trident and net as opposed to a sword and shield, so Max made sure to get rid of the latter as it would be of little use: he hurled it at their head leaving a nasty gash. The teenager feinted left with the trident, then cast the net to catch Max like a fish. However, the God didn't fall for the feint and slashed at his enemy's wrist. Unfortunately, a swift kick to the knee saved the teenager's hand and Max stumbled back.

"OK, time to get serious." He muttered, backing away.

The crowd was almost silent and the atmosphere was painfully tense, but it didn't matter to either Champion. The teenager sprinted forward, stabbing with the trident and catching Max's sword on the spikes adorning the ends of the prongs. Much to both the teenager's and Max's surprise, as the latter yanked the trident back in attempt to relieve the latter of their sword, the handle of the trident snapped. Max didn't remember hitting it, so it must have been damaged in a previous battle. The pronged part clattered to the ground and the teenager was left with a pointy stick that would likely still do a lot of damage with enough force. However, the teenager didn't hesitate and hurled their net on Max who was caught under it and forced to dive to the side to avoid the stab from the stick. He hauled the net off as his opponent charged. However, as he made to duck out of the way, he tripped on a part that was still wrapped round his ankle. The fall helped him avoid the initial attack, but he was on the ground now and his enemy was standing. The teenager picked up the pronged section of the trident and stabbed it down; Max avoided it by splitting his legs, and countered by slashing his sword. He felt the blade hit flesh and bone, and the teenager screamed as their hand almost came clean off. Max leapt to his feet, but his opponent just backed away. The crowd was chanting something, although what it meant was a mystery to him. The teenager looked between his hand and Max, then raised their good one and shouted something Alisha had taught him meant they were yielding. The crowd erupted in both boos and cheers. Max didn't revel in his victory, however. He dropped his sword and approached his former enemy. They looked scared, but the God raised his hands to show he didn't mean any harm, then took the teenager's arm in one hand and almost severed hand in the other. The blood stopped flowing and the hand re-attached itself. Max stepped back and the teenager turned their repaired hand over, staring in awe. They looked at him and said in broken Dovahzul:

"You…good man."

Max shook his head. He wasn't a good man, nobody was. He'd simply decided there was no point in letting this person live the rest of their life with only one hand, even if they had forfeited the match and in turn been disqualified from the Games.

Alisha seemed genuinely shocked when Max returned through the gate.

"You saved his life. How did you repair his hand?" She asked.

He threw his sword and shield down, wondering how people would react. He had just publicly shown his power, and that was likely to come with consequences. Alisha didn't seem to want to take silence as an answer, but her next question brought him some relief.

"Where did you learn to use restoration magic?"

He shrugged.

"I don't remember."

"How can you not remember? That is an incredible skill."

"Maybe it was too long ago?"

He decided simply saying 'I'm Dei Volente' would land him in trouble of some sort, so playing along would do fine for now.

Crossovers in this Chapter

- Skyrim

Skyrim is going to show up quite a bit in this part, mainly because of Dovahzul and dragons.