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punishment for the nameless. “They are absorbed by the primordial ooze of souls, the river Styx.”

For a few moments, neither one of them uttered a word. Both of them simply stared at Acheron, Styx’s brother, the endless river of blood that spanned as far as the eye could see under the dim light of the red crescent moon.

“It will be done. I will end them,” Alexander said eventually, “but I’ll need to be alone in the arena. No other gladiators.”

“The whole pit for one event?” the dwarf snorted. “The dominus put me in charge because I know how to run his ludus and arena efficiently. The only time the whole pit is cleared for one event is when large groups fight dragons or other similar beasts. In your case, there will probably be other groups fighting monsters in the arena too. But you don’t need to worry. There’s enough space for all of you.”

“If you put other people in the arena, I will kill them too,” Alexander said coldly. “And once I’m done, there probably won’t be much to revive.”

The dwarf paused. “I can ask this of the dominus, but do you think you can provide them with enough of a spectacle to keep everyone entertained?”

“Oh, there will be a fucking spectacle alright.”

“I trust you, berserkr,” Yalfrigg said eventually, using the Norse word this time and moving one step closer to the human. “Don’t fuck this up or I’ll make sure your off-days are worse than your fighting ones.”

“What else can you tell me about the gladiators I’ll be fighting?” Alexander asked, completely unfazed by the dwarf’s threat. “Do you know their previous levels and their classes?”

“Three of them were below level 40—an archer, a rogue, and a sword and shield-wielding goliath. Nothing too special about them, but the other two could create problems for you.”

“What’s with the remaining two?”

“The fourth one was certainly above level 40 because I remember seeing him spinning around the battlefield with a sword in each hand.”

“A Sword Dancer.”

“Exactly. His dances provide boons to his allies and he’s an agile attacker.”

“What of the last one?”

The dwarf took a deep breath and spat in the river. Despite the low lighting, Alexander could see a vein pulsating on his forehead. The tension was as thick as the humid air around them.

“He’s a healer. He used to be level 46 so he has access to powerful healing spells and even though he can’t use C-grade equipment anymore, his abilities are still significant. He can also cast a few minor buffs that will stack with those of the Sword Dancer. You must take him out first.”

“Why is there a spellcaster in the arena, even if he’s nameless?” Alexander asked, confused. “I’ve only ever seen fighters as slaves.”

“He disobeyed the dominus,” Yalfrigg said and turned around to look at the river again. “He was a man of mercy. He let a group of people pass away without reviving them. He saved them and he paid the price for it.”

Alexander immediately caught the change in the doctore’s voice but didn’t push for more information. He had everything he needed for this battle, and it would be the first of many if he wanted to leave this damned place.

“First the healer, then the dancer,” he agreed.

“If you are to command the whole pit by yourself, take your time with the rest. Let their buffs run out and give the crowds what they want. A bit of showmanship.”

Alexander didn’t reply but simply nodded. If the crowds wanted blood, blood would be what they’d get.

“Now get your ass back to the camp and prepare yourself.”

“There is nothing to prepare—” was all Alexander managed to say before the dwarf interrupted him.

“The fuck I care!” the dwarf shouted. “Just be ready when they call your name.”

Without wanting to know why the dwarf had suddenly changed his tune, Alexander turned to leave. But as soon as he took his first step, he was stopped in his tracks by the stinking, burnt piece of flesh that was the dwarf’s hand now.

“First the healer,” he said, barely loud enough to be heard, and shoved him away.

It only took a few more steps before Alexander realized why he was sent away so violently. Somewhere between the shadows cast by the thick foliage separating the camp from the beach was a creature straight out of nightmares. Its lower half resembled a goat standing on its hind legs while the top half was that of a gigantic bat. Its huge fangs were the only thing on its completely dark body that wasn’t black in color. Judging by the way the moonlight reflected in its eyes, it was obvious this beast didn’t need to rely on echolocation, but rather possessed a keen dark-vision.

Name : Infernal Goire

Type : Beast

Level : 33

Disposition : Passive

HP : 702/702

Physical Attack : 138

Magic Attack : 96

Speed : 109

Attack Range : Melee

XP : 5231

Description : Goires were initially created by magically merging vampire bats and domesticated goats with the purpose of using them as test subjects for the development of cures for magic diseases. However, the species’ reproductive cycle proved to be very short and sub-species of the beast quickly spread through many realms. The Infernal Goire is an agile albeit timid beast, preferring to fly above weak prey before attacking. Due to its low mental defenses, they are easy to take control of telepathically and thus are often used as a means of surveillance over large areas.

Alexander moved without breaking eye contact with the goire. The animal fluttered its wings in an attempt to flee but whoever or whatever was controlling it wouldn’t allow it to leave. The strange beast had not seen the last of its days, however, as Alexander walked past it and headed back toward the slave camp.

Some of those around the bonfire Alexander was sitting at had now left and others had taken their place. His seat was still empty though—empty and unused, since there was a soft layer of moisture

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