DISCLAIMER I do not Own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Everything in this story bar the Plot, and a few Characters belongs to Rick Riordan.
Also, Feel free to review your thoughts on anything, I'd like to hear what I've done well as this is pretty much my first ever Fanfic. Additionally, criticisms both expected and welcomed, I'd also love to hear what I'm NOT doing well etc.
Chapter 2 -
The battle was drawing to a close.
Most of the clumps of fighting had barely three or four men left.
Glancing again towards the stands, Perseus watched as throngs of passionately screaming crowds cheered on the deaths of their fellow man.
Many directed their attention towards Perseus himself, and gave a hearty chorus of support for his bloodthirsty display of physical superiority.
These Romans loved watching the Unnamed fight, marvelling at the brute nature of their fighting style.
It epitomized the Gladiator struggle, which was so different from traditional Roman warfare.
While its military trained strength in numbers and the advantage of tactics, its arena displayed vicious mayhem and destruction.
That explained why most Gladiators were Greeks or Unnamed.
Most days ended like this, Perseus achieving total victory over his peers, and feeling nothing. No remorse for the violence, no Pride for his efforts. Simply nothing.
He used to fight with a tenacity for survival, fearing death in this pit more than anything. He had been told this was unusual for an Unnamed, and had eventually come to understand why.
The more he fought, the less he felt each time he severed the link holding men to this plane of existence.
Perseus growled, tugging on the runed chain circling his neck.
Expecting his day's work to be over, he paced over to the muttering man, and began to lift him.
-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-
A horn blew, and the Arena suddenly quietened.
Out of the silence, a single voice boomed.
It was too loud for a mere man, and Perseus glanced at the Demigod perched under the Emperors Banner.
"Today… in 100th anniversary of the great Battle of Fort Jari, We welcome the 12th Legion"
Narrowing his eyes, Perseus remembered the words of White toga in his cell, "If tomorrow you live".
He hadn't stated that with confidence.
The Demigod continued.
"Who have the great honour of acting as the Legion led by the great General Belonius Terrus, purging Northern Rome of Greek corruption."
An enormous gate on the opposite side of the arena creaked loudly, then rose slowly. 60 men dressed in full soldiers livery marched in perfect harmony through the gates, before gathering in ranks.
In response, a gate several metres to Perseus' left also opened, and 20 odd Gladiators walked through.
Those still in groups of conflict around the arena began to rush towards their fellow gladiators, fleeing the clumps of sun-roasted corpses littering the ring.
The previous fight was forgotten as combatants from mere moments ago began to prepare for their certain death.
Many began turning to Perseus, hopeful looks in their eyes.
It was well known he was Unnamed.
He simply ignored them, turning to face their new opponent.
At their head, a man adorned with a red cloak, and a helmet with two wings on either side paced in front of the ranks, riling up his troops.
When Perseus stared for long periods, he began to notice the air around the man shimmering, warping his image slightly.
Another Demigod.
Perseus cursed, Unnamed as he was, he couldn't fight a real Demigod.
Even if he did know how to grasp the Essence, the runed chains around his neck would ensure his helplessness to his enemies Essence.
Some of his fellow Gladiators must have also noticed the Demigod man, because several were now looking at Perseus, expectant looks adorning their faced.
"Hey, I said, lets get that choker off?"
Perseus didn't answer. He rarely opened his mouth to anyone.
Several minutes passed in silent anticipation, awaiting the second horn.
The stands were beginning to get restless, screams erupting frequently.
The men who had pried Perseus had given up a while ago. After getting angry at his silence, they had eventually resigned to simply offering prayers to Ares for assistance in the fight ahead.
Finally, the force on the other side began to march forward, and the horn blew.
Luckily for the Gladiators, the Demigod waited behind, mounting an armoured horse, and simply watching the ensuring battle.
Perseus knew they had no chance.
But he decided, if he was going to die in this pit, he may as well send these bastards to the real pit.
Stalking to the side, and hastening his pace, the gladiators behind him, all pressed near backs to wall, watched in horror as someone walked towards the incoming onslaught.
Along the way Perseus picked up a fallen spear, and a trident that he rammed point first into the ground a few yards behind him.
Stopping around 100 metres from the Romans, he braced himself for the fight of his life.
They were only 20 metres apart now.
Perseus could see the smug expressions on the faces of those closest to him, clearly amused at the thought of a single man fighting 60.
But Perseus had no intention of fighting 60 men at once.
Grab a shield
The thought rattled through his skull.
Suddenly bursting forwards, Perseus leapt up, slamming both feet into the raised, but un-expecting shield of the left and front most soldier.
His action worked as intended, the man simply stumbled backwards, bumping into the man behind, effectively interrupting the entire tortoise formation the Romans were famous for.
Stabbing into exposed ribs of the soldier beside him, Perseus grabbed the large rectangular shield left by the dead man, blocking a slash from directly in front of him.
Dashing backward with the newly attained shield, he returned to his buried trident, while hearing cursing from behind, mingled with a morbid groaning of the stabbed man.
Not dead yet.
Turning in anticipation he furrowed his brow to see the rank halted, as it adjusted to the absence of a front pilum member.
They're untrained.
Perseus strained his ears, hearing a shuffling behind him.
Rapidly turning to new threat, he breathed a relieved sigh as he saw several gladiators had joined him.
"Get the rest."
Wide eyes were his only response.
Cursing, Perseus repeated.
"Get the rest."
A younger man nodded before running behind them.
Their tactics work in your favour. Buy time by ensuring they stay fairly defensive, they'll never rush you.
More of the foreign thoughts bounced around his skull.
The young man returned with a few more Gladiators, and an irritated expression. Many still stood terrified by the wall.
"Throw everything at them."
A few men looked at him confused.
"Throw."
He demonstrated, throwing his spear at a tiny gap between the slowly approaching shield wall. It made it through, but only made glancing contact.
"Slows them."
Perseus backed a while away, the other men followed.
Nodding, he then grasped his trident as several of the men began throwing retrieved fallen weapons.
Cursing began emanating from the approaching rank. None of the weapons hit flesh, but they weren't supposed to.
The surrounding crowds were growing quieter, clearly disappointed at the lack of violence.
Perseus simply stood to the side of the men throwing weapons and retreating.
Seeing an opening, He again dashed forward, lodging a single point of the trident on the side of a shield, and using the weapon as a lever, ripped to the side with natural Demigod strength.
Hearing an arm snap, and seeing bone protruding from an elbow, he swung his sword across the brow of another, punching right though the eye socket, he recoiled slightly from the gruesome sight of an almost detached eyeball. Receiving a spear point in the shoulder for his distraction, he retreated again.
Grasping the spearhead, Perseus ripped outward. A torrent of fluid sprayed forth.
The rest of the Gladiators, seeing the relative success of his effort, joined the group, and proceeded to toss discarded weapons at the romans.
A few others stood with Perseus himself, weapons held in one hand with white fingers, and the other fumbling to put helmets on.
Grimacing at a sudden sting in his shoulder, Perseus glanced at his almost enclosed wound.
Without even looking up he dashed toward the Romans again, this time with a few men to support him.
His target faltered, stopping dead, allowing those to his right to be left exposed to Perseus' companions.
Perseus, with only a sword, slammed his fist into the man's large shield, leaving a large dent, he swung his blade at the shield, chipping the side, then he kicked, and the man fell to the floor.
The surrounding Romans, too distracted by watching two men hack at the body of their fallen comrade to the side, failed to notice Perseus drag his foe from the rank.
Noticing Perseus' absence, the Gladiators retreated.
He heard a shriek, and turned to see a man only a few years his senior wince and cower beneath him.
"Take weapons. Bring dead."
Those around Perseus glanced at the man cowering, then back Perseus.
He only shrugged in return.
He turned back at the still large group of Romans before him.
A bloodcurdling scream sounded behind him, which turned to a gurgle.
A few men, now stained red, some with expressions of shock, stood beside him.
-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-
After another successful raid on the bewildered, and now somewhat terrified rank, Perseus surveyed their remaining legion.
Around 45 remained. Somehow they had managed to take nearly 15 of them while only losing 1 man.
Dashing forward again, an enormous crack sounded throughout the stadium.
Through his peripherals, Perseus saw a man to his right suspended in mid air by some invisible force, before being slammed into the ground.
Landing on his neck, the man's spine snapped, leaving a slumped mass on the floor.
To his left, a man collapsed, clawing at his face. Rolling to his back, Perseus saw flames spread across his contorted body, charring skin.
Suddenly a cannonball slammed into Perseus' chest, crushing his ribs, and squeezing his lungs.
Struggling to breath, and suddenly staring at a burning sun, Perseus looked down, to see no cannonball.
His body immediately began to heal his crushed torso, before he felt his arm be yanked from its socket, pulling him 30 feet to his left. Crumpled on the floor, he felt and saw golden liquid start to dribble from his eyes, pooling around his forehead.
Looking up, Perseus saw every Gladiator originally standing with him either on the floor, or being sliced apart by Romans, who had finally broken their formation.
Glancing to his right, he saw a winged helmet stalking towards him.