The Crimson Era

Chapter 10: The Beggining of a Genocide Pt. 1

A few hours after her day dream, Azriel finally decided to go back to the mess hall to look at the daily schedule. It wasn't that she was worried, since she had recently regained all of her previous muscle mass, if not a little more, it was just that she wanted to know who she was going to have to kill, or be killed by.

On the top of the sheet, she noticed a small note that was scribbled on the top right in messy handwriting. It explained that five minutes before each duel a bell would be sounded in the middle of all 20 cabins. Azriel began to wonder how everybody would have seen this note to know what the bell meant, but then she realized that she was the only one who hadn't looked at the schedule until now.

Looking down the list, or rather just that day's duels, she wasn't surprised to see her name as the first duel of the day. She'd figured that Cain would've pulled something like that on her. Ever since her outburst when they had first arrived, he had been picking on her. She just assumed that he was making an example of her, but to her it felt like there was something deeper beyond the surface to his sadistic and egotistical personality.

Shaking away the thought, she looked at the list to see if she knew the person she was going to battle with. His name was Richard and she'd never heard of or seen him before. That'll make this a bit easier, she thought.

Feeling a bit better about later and the fact that she wouldn't be made an example by Cain for missing the signal to head to the arena, she headed back to her cabin. When she made it back she found the cabin empty.

Not knowing when the bell for the duels would sound, she decided to put on her usual combat uniform. It consisted of a pair of black leather leggings, chosen for their durability and protection, a black long sleeve shirt, a black vest made out of the same material as jeans, black boots that came up to the bottom of her knees, and the waist strap attached to the sheath of her sword.

Putting on her signature black cloak and slipping her pair of brass-knuckles on, she sat down on her bed, not sure what to do next. The cool metal of the brass-knuckles was oddly soothing on her callused and hard working hands, but that comfort was just as easily taken from her when she heard the sickening sound of a bell in the distance.

Fifteen minutes later Azriel was standing in a dark room waiting in silence with a guard behind her. She had no idea that this was how it was going to work. Being herded like a lost lamb only made her feel even weaker and more doubtful.

All of a sudden the sheet of dark metal was pulled to one side and the light of day shining off of the sand floor of the arena was almost blinding. Azriel stood frozen in place, hearing the loud thumping of ceremonial drums from somewhere above her.

She also heard something that she hadn't expected: cheering. Although she knew that 78 other people were watching in the seats above the arena, the cheering seemed much louder and out of proportion. Taking a step out of her enclosure, she saw why. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of unfamiliar men dressed in black and gray, carrying weapons, and wearing armor.

Azriel had expected Cain to bring a few chosen people to come and watch their duels, but she had never expected this. When she reached the edge of the small room where the metal sheet had been, the guard behind her roughly shoved her forward and Azriel had trouble keeping her balance in the sand.

Recovering from her near fall, she walked towards the middle of the arena, hearing a few of Cain's friends and allies wolf-call her, she turned sharply to glare at the men who had whistled at her. She couldn't pick out who had done it because every man there was smiling and looking at her like she was a piece of meat in front of a starving pack of wolves.

Hearing the same ringing sound from the adjacent side of the arena, she saw her opponent, Richard, for the first time ever. He looked scrawny and was as pale as a vampire; a sharp contrast to Azriel's slightly tanned and muscular body.

Seeing the look of fear on his face after laying eyes on all 150 lbs of toned Azriel, she genuinely felt sorry for him. They walked towards each other to exchange their first, and last, handshake. During their hand shake she leaned in next to his ear, and reassured him that if he died it would be quick and painless, and he pledged the same to her.

Separating once more and returning to their sides of the arena, they prepared themselves. As the bell rung once more, Azriel bowed her head to Richard before pulling her sword from its sheath, preparing to become a murderer.