A Gladius, A Crown and A Broken Empire (Reichpol) [Hiatus]

The last fight

Poland's POV

He jumped back as the retiarius threw the net over his head, barely avoiding it by mere inches. The sweat dripped from his skin, the raging sun making the shield and helmet even heavier than he was used to, pushing him down into the earth, his movements slower than usual.

He huffed, tired of the defense approach he had been forced to take.

Weighting the sword, he prepared to charge. Watching every move of the enemy as they circled each other. The other made a bad step and he took the opportunity to try to make a strike.

Nemesis was clearly not on his side for this one, and he wished he could turn back time to pray to the now angry goddess.

His gladius connected with the man's trident, and the vibration caused by the clashing of metal against metal made his weapon slip from his hand, the blood of his dead comrades turning his grip on the sword weaker.

He cursed under his breath, that small moment of distraction being enough for the other to attack.

Poland moved a little too late, and the sharp points of the trident sliced through the skin on his side, leaving long cuts. Inhaling deeply he forced himself to move faster, thankful of, at least, not being impaled on the floor.

It was ok, they were only superficial cuts, he would be ok. He repeated on his head like a mantra.

The murmillo tried to make a run for his gladius, but the feeling of the retiarius weapon stabbing the protection on his arm and barely missing his flesh, made him turn around once again.

He couldn't underestimate the strength of the other, specially not when the roman deity seemed to be on a campaign against him right now.

Not letting the other out of his sight, he walked back slowly, trying to reach the place were he had seen the gladius fall. The feeling of the metal against his feet made him know he had reached the exact place where the weapon laid.

He tried to take it quickly but, taking advantage of his unbalanced posture, the other quickly threw the net over his body, successfully catching him on it and making him fall to the ground.

Panicking, Poland tried to look for the Gladius, but the sword laid too far for him to grab it, his fingers an inch too far away. It was almost a dark joke of the Destiny.

The retiarius raised the knife over his head and as it came down, Poland raised his shield just high enough to deviate the weapon. Letting go of the shield, he used his feet to kick it towards the enemy, making him stumble and getting out of the net in the process.

Breathing heavily, he quickly took his own weapon, running to were the other was trying to get up and cutting off the hand that still held the knife, ready to attack. He secured the other hand of the retiarius with his foot and raised his gaze to the place were the Emperor of Rome watched, unamused.

He could hear people whispering, trying to decide what should be done. He knew what that meant. He turned to look at the expressions of the people of Rome.

They were conflicted.

Usually, during the ludii, people would easily choose a favorite in the battle. But today's fight hadn't been that good. They weren't at his side, and neither on the side of the man that squirmed in pain under his weight, holding his mutilated hand.

The rudus wasn't going to be his. There was no way.

His eyes returned to the Emperor, who extended his hand, his thumb in plain sight.